TARDIS FOR SALE
by Boogaloo1964
Summary: Sequel to 'A Hard Day's Night in Time and Space'. The Beatles are moving on with their lives after their adventure with the Doctor, but when strange things start happening, and they begin to be stalked by creatures of non-terrestrial origin, they call on a Time Lord they know can help them. Adventure ensues, but can they solve all their problems before the album deadline?
1. Chapter 1

_A/N; Hello! So glad someone clicked on my story (and if you clicked on it accidentally, please stay your right ring finger hovering over the backspace button). I do hope you enjoy it. Quick tip, though; if you haven't read the story preceding this one (it's called 'A Hard Day's Night in Time and Space'), please go give it a look. It will make this one much easier to understand. But anyhow, peace and love, hope you like it, and all that. Reviews are MOST WELCOME! Please share your opinion! I would delight in hearing from you!_

 _Disclaimer; I sadly do not own Doctor Who or any of the characters or creatures from it. As for the Beatles, I obviously do not own them either (or their lyircs), and the characters here representing them are but fictional characters based off of the real-life people and based loosely off of the dramatized versions of themselves as represented in their films._

The skies were dark above the Lost Moon of Poosh, except for the stars that (to a human) would seem unusually close down to the crust of the planet. Each was about the average circumference (from the homosapien's perspective) of a harvest-moon on Earth. They looked rather peculiar, burning different colors. The people of the Poosh had long ago in the days of old flown up in their primitive space capsules and cast into the whirling and swirling gases of the stars something they called 'pooshdust' (in laymen's terms); it added incredible color; all possible hues of orange, blue, green, pink, purple, red, and yellow, and some colors that the human eye was not capable of perceiving. It was beautiful, utterly beautiful.

It was a sore shame that the people of the Poosh had not been multi-talented, or at least bi-talented. They did a wonderful, awe-inspiring, knock-out job of adding additional beauty to their planet, their stars, and their moon through their creativity. But they were lousy at military strategy, organization, and... Well, they were so lousy at it that they did not even have an acting military at the time that the Jinthrox invaded. And now the people of the Poosh were all gone, the patrons of the arts and the artists themselves. Not one left. Nothing left of their millions of works of art that they created in their thousands of years that they remained hidden and unnoticed by the universe at war around them. But when they made an expedition into space to look for new art to bring back to their home planet, they got noticed. And the rest is history.

This the Doctor had just found out.

The Doctor had been on his own for a while, just bopping around, trying to have some fun. His companion, Donna Noble, had decided to stay home for a short period. She had had a close encounter with some quick sand in the Amazon, and after that the Doctor had almost accidentally let her fall into a black hole. Though it was really nothing to get uptight about, she had gotten quite cross about it all, and had actually carried out her threat to go home for a day. She had gone home for her grandfather's (Wilfred Mott, an ever-merry fellow) birthday, and the Doctor was getting in about two weeks worth of adventures before returning to pick her up in the evening. He was trying desperately to keep from getting lonely, and he had promised himself that he would not give in and just spend equal to a day before going back to pick her up. And when the Doctor was alone, he was undoubtedly lonely, but he would rather forfeit a regeneration than to admit it. So what he did was run as fast as ever he could, bounce around the stars and fly back and forth through the time vortex, maxing the poor TARDIS engines, hoping that some recklessness would make him feel like he wasn't alone. But it didn't. It usually just blew a hose or burnt up a valve, and he had to stop and repair it, and he spent more time than he wanted to wrapping duct tape around vital equipment.

So as the Doctor was running to keep himself entertained, something he often did was visit bizarre/unique places to meeting bizarre/unique people and learn bizarre/unique things. And the Last Moon of Poosh would have been one of those such places. If his time proximity regulator hadn't gone a bit wibbly (which probably happened when he tried to fix a .055 second gap produced by a short in the wiring between the console controls and the time proximity regulator itself).

And the gap between the time that he wanted to visit and the time that he actually visited was more than .055 seconds. It was more like 500 years.

When the Doctor had stepped outside of the TARDIS, ready to experience the famed culture of the people of Poosh, he found a desolate, barren wasteland. And all that was left of that culture were the colors in the stars.

So, the long and the short of it was; he started knocking about the deserted moon, looking for the threads of an adventure (which he always did, whether he was alone or otherwise) to fall into his lap. And he found one.

The Doctor was running. What else is new?

He was running, sprinting out across the deserted plains of the Lost Moon of Poosh, accompanied by a friendly Hath.

The Doctor could hear both his hearts pounding in his chest and his dirty white shoes pounding on rock ground beneath him. The Hath was running as fast as ever he could, trying to keep up with the Doctor (few creatures were in as good of shape for running as the Time Lord).

Suddenly, there came a rumbling, coming from under the crust of the planet. It was a terrible roaring, getting louder and louder, vibrating the Doctor's very insides until it felt like it was disrupting the beating of his hearts. It stopped for a terrible moment. Anyone else might have been relieved, but the Doctor knew what came next.

He saw the TARDIS in the distance. It was still about a quarter of a mile away. He now sprinted, galloped, propelling himself into flying leaps in between every step. He was swinging his arms in powerful strokes. His speed increased so that he nearly forgot his Hath friend (his name was something that no human could understand nor repeat) in his frenzy to save his box of blue.

"Hurry!", he shouted through his teeth, spitting quite a bit accidentally. "We've got to save the TARDIS!".

The Hath faithfully followed, trying to pick up his pace, but still not being able to match the Doctor's.

Then, the rumbling from under the ground returned.

"HURRY! IT'S COMING!", the Doctor screamed, still running. The Hath could run no faster.

Then, there came a terrible shaking, trembling of the entire moon, violently from side to side.

"IT'S STARTING!", the Doctor screamed over the deafening roar.

Then, there was an instant of silence. The Doctor heard his hearts beating, and saw the TARDIS still yards in front of him. The second felt like an hour. He knew they would not make it in time.

"COME ON!", the Doctor's shout was swallowed up completely by the explosion coming from behind them.

The Doctor and the Hath both could not keep from turning and looking.

The Doctor saw nothing but fire, lava, and enormous slabs of rock the size of entire cities being thrust miles up into the sky. What had been the Lost Moon of Poosh just a few moments before would soon be huge chunks of rock flying through space. And the very ground under their feet, under the TARDIS, would be gone.

The Doctor now knew why the Moon of Poosh had been called "Lost" throughout most of time. It was about to get really, really lost.

The sound of the explosion was so loud that it just became a ringing static in the Doctor's ears. The Hath covered his ears.

The flames were upon them, licking their heels, when the Doctor slammed against the TARDIS, fumbling in his pockets for the key. He crammed the key in the hole after a time that seemed far too long and turned it with a quick wrench. He thrust the door open, and the Hath followed him inside, shutting the door just in time. The Doctor continued his rapid pace up to the controls just as the TARDIS was starting to make wretched sounds as the flames started to burn it.

The Doctor slammed down the emergency departure lever, and they immediately shot at the speed of sound straight into the air, out of the atmosphere, and then out of the flames and molten lava. He guided them several thousand miles away from what was a few moments ago a moon before setting the parking break and letting his legs finally give out. He was panting loudly, and the Hath was glubbing rapidly.

Then, the phone rang.

At first, neither of them noticed it. The Doctor just kept trying in vain to catch his breath. Eventually, the Hath pointed to the telephone attached to the console.

"Who could it be?", said the Doctor in disbelief. No one had called him for quite some time. Time Lords didn't get many calls. It couldn't be Donna (she had said "I won't call you, spaceman. You call me").

The Doctor struggled to get back up onto his entirely worn-out legs, and straggled over to the telephone.

"'Ello?", he said.

That's what he thought he sounded like. He actually sounded like a half-drowned person who was trying to speak when they were in need of medical aid.

"Hello?", returned the voice, sounding like they were definitely wondering if what they were talking to was a human being (or a time lord). The voice had a definite accent; the Doctor couldn't quite put his finger on it at the time. His body was trying to reoxygenate his blood before it took care of the farer reaches of his brain.

"Yes, who is this?", said the Doctor. Sounding more like 'Ye*wheez*, woo *wheez* thi*wheez?'.

"You all right, mate?", said the voice.

The Doctor cleared his throat and took in a very deep breath away from the telephone.

"Yes, I'm, ehem, quite fine. Who is this?", said the Doctor, still not sounding quite like himself.

"If I've gotten the number wrong, this'll sound really potty, but am I connected to the TARDIS?".

"Ey?", said the Doctor, straining. The ringing in his ears was still prominent.

"I said 'is this the TARDIS'?", the voice repeated.

"Sorry, mate, me ears are ringing like mad. You're going to have to shout.".

"A'SAID; IS THIS THE TARDIS?!", yelled the voice on the other end. The Doctor's ear popped, and some of the ringing stopped.

"Phew, okay, you've popped my ear. Thanks. Em, yes, this is the TARDIS. Who is this?" said the Doctor, starting to get impatient to find out who this voice belonged to.

"It's Bill.".

The Doctor furrowed his brow. He said nothing for a good many moments. He thought, sorting through his mental list of all the Bill's that he knew. He was only just coming to the list of humans called Bill when his thoughts were disrupted.

"Doctor?".

"Sorry, yes?".

"John Lennon.".

The Doctor then forgot all that he had been doing. Everything. He forgot that he had just survived an exploding moon, he forgot that he was out of breath, he forgot that his legs hurt, he forgot that there was a Hath watching him... And he forgot that the phone he was on had a short cord.

When he jumped up in the air in excitement and pleasant surprise, he unplugged himself.

The Doctor cringed out of embarrassment as he quickly realized what he had done when there was a cord slapping against his pinstriped suit. He plugged himself back in with haste.

"-octor? Hello in there? Doctor?", the Doctor got in on John's attempts to reach him.

"Yes! I'm here! John! My lad, what have you been up to? I haven't seen you in years! How've you been? How are the boys? Oh, wow,", said the Doctor smiling broadly.

"We're doing brilliantly, Doctor, the lot of us. But you might check your calendar again. It hasn't been years, mate. It's been about... Oh, six or seven months. But anyhow, I'm so chuffed to hear your voice again,", said John, and the Doctor could hear the smile in his voice.

"I'm chuffed to hear yours!", cried the Doctor. "See, six or seven months... That would mean... Hmm... You're about to work on another album, aren't you?".

"How'd you-", John stopped himself. Stupid question to ask a time traveler.

"Yeah, we just got back into the studio. What have you been up to, old boy?", asked John.

"Oh, this and that. I just popped off an exploding moon not a second too soon just about forty-five seconds ago,", said the Doctor, forgetting his cool.

"Oh. Well. All right. Jolly good, then,", said John, laughing.

"Well, nothing's really new with me,", said the Doctor, trying to regain his modesty. "Same old thing. Planets. Things. But anyhow, how's the band stuff going? What've you been writing?", gushed the Doctor.

"Everything's great. We're actually in the middle of writing the next LP. Just got back from our tour, and we're actually in quite a rush to turn out some new tunes,", said John.

John sighed a little, as if this last comment troubled him.

Then the Doctor realized there must have been a reason that he called.

"John, are you sure everything's all right? I mean, you can call anytime you want, but... I know it must be something,", said the Doctor, sounding concerned.

"I...", John sighed. "Actually, Doctor, yes. There is something. We didn't want to bother you, but we knew that you were the only one that could help us.".

"Well, tell me what's wrong and I'll be happy to help. I hope it's nothing serious,", said the Doctor, now getting worried.

"Oh, well, I suppose it isn't, really... But it is. Very serious to the lads and I.".

"What's going on?", said the Doctor.

John sighed long.

"I can't tell you over the phone. It's too complicated. And I don't know want to pay the bill for a 3 hour space-call.".

"Well, fine, then. I'll come to you, and we can talk it out. It's not an emergency, is it?", said the Doctor, the thought of immediate danger just occurring to him, his grip tightening in concern on the telephone.

"No, it's not an emergency. It's just really bad luck, and we need you to sort it, if you can. You're the only one that wouldn't think that we had all completely flipped.".

"Where are you now?", asked the Doctor.

"I'm at home.".

"Good, I'll come there. What's the address?", said the Doctor, getting a little excited as he fumbled for pen and paper.

"As much as I know you'd love it to be, Doctor, there are no girls to save and I'm pretty sure there are no bombs about to go off. Not in this neighborhood, at least,", John giggled. "Don't think I've forgotten your ways, Doctor. You love the action, the last-second rescue, the edge of peril.".

"I don't think you've forgotten a thing, mate,", laughed the Doctor.

"Well be assured, I haven't done. And I'd like to see you again when all the lads and I are together. They don't know I've called. Well, George does, but the rest don't. Plus, we need Paul to see Rose, now don't we? He's with Jane now, mind, but he'd still like to see her again. He became very fond of her that day...", said John, and it was apparent in his voice that he was floating back in time (or forward in time) to their day of meeting.

Several silent tears pooled in the Doctor's eyes. He started to open his mouth. He wanted to say. He had to say. He wanted John to know. And he didn't want to be the one to tell Paul.

But the prickly lump in his throat expanded until he started to choke. He tried to cover it up by a firm clearing of his throat. He had cried over Rose many times in private, but not for a long, long while, and he certainly didn't want to break it to the boys in that way.

"You all right, there, mate? You sound like you've got a touch of something.".

"Oh, no, I'm fine. It's just... Nothing. Nothing at all. I'm fine,", said the Doctor, trying to wipe his eyes silently with his sleeve.

"So, see you tomorrow at the studio canteen, then?", said John.

"Yeah,", said the Doctor, trying to force himself to recover. "Sounds brilliant.".

"All right then. I guess I'll see you then. And Doctor?", said John.

"Yeah?".

"I'm really, really chuffed to hear from you again,", John could not hide the happy laughter in his voice.

"It's brilliant to hear from you, John. It's great for a fellow to know that he's got friends in this big old universe,", said the Doctor.

"Well, you'll always have friends in us, mate. And don't be surprised if the boys attack you or something. I'm not going to tell them you're coming. Though George may suspect.".

"Fine, fine,", laughed the Doctor.

"Good. See you tomorrow, old friend.".

"Bye, then,", said the Doctor.

"Cheerio, old boy,", said John, starting to hang up.

The Doctor almost hung up. But then he realized - When is 'tomorrow'?

"Oh, John! J-", said the Doctor, frantically trying to grab his attention again.

"Yeah? Forgot something, Doctor?".

"Yeah, sort of. Sorry, this may sound funny, but... When's tomorrow?".

"Oh!", cried John, thoroughly amused. He had forgotten.

"29th September, 1964. Meet us at EMI on Abbey Road, we'll be in Studio Two if you don't catch us at lunch.".

"Fine. I'll see you then. And remember; I go by Mr. Smith sometimes. Or Dr. Smith. Depends what mood I'm in.".

"All right, then. Cheerio, old boy!", laughed John.

"Bye-bye,", said the Doctor, hanging up the phone with a huge smile on his face.

It was several moments before he emerged from his daydream to realized that there was a very puzzled Hath staring at him from where he sat in the floor.

"Oh,", said the Doctor, realizing that he was being observed.

"That was an old friend. I've got to go quite quickly, he needs my help. Do you need me to drop you somewhere?".

 _A/N; That's it for this chapter. I'm trying to make the chapters shorter in this one, as I realized how bloody long the chapters were in my first story after I uploaded them on here. Hope you enjoy! Please review, and if you haven't read my other story, please do! It's kind of necessary to check it out before you read this one, as you have probably guessed by now! :)_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N; So here's another chapter. Sorry about it being long, but it was kind of hard to split this part up without it losing something in the process. I have been pleasantly surprised (okay, thrilled to pieces) at the exponential increase in my story's views over the past week. It's thrilling to think that the stuff that I dream up in my free time is actually liked and appreciated by other people. PLEASE REVIEW! I would LOOOOVE to hear from you! Let me know what you're thinking of this so far!_

So once the Doctor dropped the Hath off at the nearest Hath colony, only a few thousand lightyears away, he prepared to fly back to his home away from home - 20th century Earth. But first, he had to make a phone call.

*BEEP-BEEP. BEEP-BEEP. BEEP-BEEP.*

"Oh, come on, Donna,", sighed the Doctor.

"'Ello?", said a voice that the Doctor knew wasn't Donna's.

"Mrs. Noble, hello,", said the Doctor, relieved that someone had answered, but he now knew that his chances of getting through to Donna were even slimmer.

"Oh. It's you.".

"I see Donna has...?", sighed the Doctor, knowing that any further words would be futile. It's always the mothers.

"Yes. We have had... Words. And I have one thing to say to you, you old space sod, I'll come at your throat if I ever hear of you putting my little girl in danger like that again! A bleeding-bloody BLACK HOLE! If I EVER hear -".

The Doctor held the phone away from his ear for a few seconds until the shouting subsided. As soon as he heard only grumbled mumbles, he held the phone back to his ear.

"It wasn't as bad as it sounds, Mrs. Noble, I'm sure you could understand,", said the Doctor, trying to remain calm. Then the monotone angry chattering started to wind up again, and he interrupted.

"Mrs. Noble, I would go into detail and explain in intricacy the situation to you so you could understand that Donna was actually in little danger, but I am rather in a rush. So could I please talk to Donna? Please?", he asked, trying to sound persuasive.

There was a silence, followed by mumbled and grumbled things that the Doctor was sure he was better off not hearing.

"It's you, is it, spaceman?", came a different voice.

"Donna!", he exclaimed.

"Yeah, whad'you want, Marsian boy?".

The Doctor had learned that there was no use - he was and forever would be 'Marsian'.

"I've got something. It's really good. It's golden. And I really want you to come back so you don't miss out. Are you ready?", he asked.

There was a long silence. The Doctor heard a door shut on the other end of the line.

"Okay, I'm in my room, I can talk now. GOD YES come and get me spaceman PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE,", begged Donna, and the Doctor could hear rustling and the sound of zippers zipping (he knew she was re-packing her bags).

"So you're not angry anymore?".

"Oh, nah! What's a black hole between friends?", Donna laughed boisterously.

"Good. Better pack your journal. This one is one that Wilf is going to want to hear in detail when we come back next time.".

"I'm taking it,", said Donna amidst more rustling. "God, I'm glad you're coming back. I mean, I love it here at home, and Mum and Granddad, but... I haven't seen an alien in a whole day. I'm going bonkers!", Donna exclaimed into the phone. "So what's this one?".

"Oh, well...", said the Doctor, searching his mind for some better way to put it then 'Oh, you've heard of the Beatles? Yeah, they're old friends, and they need us to come over and help them out with something.".

"I'll tell you once you're aboard.".

"Oh, shut up. You, trying to get me all excited, wondering and waiting when you know I'm an experienced traveller of both time and space. I can't be bothered about your silly little adventure...", said Donna, putting on her posh voice (but she couldn't quite get rid of the Cockney).

"HA!,", then came a loud laugh from Donna's end.

"HA!", returned the Doctor.

"Brilliant. I'll pick you up. What time?".

"6 at night.".

"Sure. See you then. And make sure your mother doesn't have any weapons within reach. I have a feeling I might be challenged to single combat when I come to the door.".

"Oh...", said Donna. "I'll talk to her.".

"Good.".

"Bye-bye, Doctor.".

"See you in a minute.".

"Careful flying!".

"Uh-huh.".

"Right, bye.".

"Bye.".

The Doctor set sail for Chiswick, London, November 20th, 2008. In a moment, he had landed, and he was walking casually out of the TARDIS out onto the residential street with all-brick houses where Donna lived. As he was stepping out of his blue box, he noticed that his time machine was severely singed. The entire bottom of the box of blue was blackened, and the paint was flaking off the whole thing.

"Brilliant,", he muttered sarcastically to himself. The explosion had burnt his ride to a crisp.

He walked up to her door, and gave a firm seven knocks. He always knocked seven times. Four used to be his standard, but he didn't like to do that anymore. Ever.

There was a few moments of silence, and then the Doctor heard someone fiddling with the knob on the other side, and the door swung open. There in the doorway stood an elderly man, with a short white beard and hair to match, a red knitted cap pulled lazily over his head, and a weather-worn coat positioned crookedly across his shoulders. His blue eyes were shining.

"DOCTOR!", he exclaimed, an enormous smile spreading over his face. "I was hoping you'd come back, my boy. Come on in, come on in,", he said, ushering the Doctor inside.

"How are you, Wilf?", the Doctor said, turning back to the elderly man once he was inside.

"Oh... Much the same as I was this morning. How are you? I know there's a chance that things have changed in the universe since quarter-t-nine this morning,", said Wilf, ushering him into the small living space and urging him to sit down on the sofa.

"Well... I now know how the Lost Moon of Poosh was, well, lost, and I discovered that bananas actually can grow on Mars, with proper cultivation and a supply of compressed carbon dioxide, and -", the Doctor stopped when he saw that Donna's mother had entered the room.

"Well, Doctor, have you dropped any more little girls into black holes?", she sniffed, sitting down with a very sour look on her face.

The Doctor didn't say anything for a moment, trying to find words in the wake of the dragon.

"Mrs. Noble,", he started, trying to sound especially polite.

"Oh, kid,", Wilfred intervened. "He didn't drop 'er into the black hole! We've been through this! Donna is home safe, and that's all that matters,", Wilfred chided his daughter.

"And now she's about to run off again into the wild blue yonder with this maniac,", said Mrs. Noble, waving her hand and the Doctor, though she couldn't bring herself to look at him. "If I had half a mind I would make her stay home. If I had half a mind...".

"She's 32 years old, lovey! You can't ground her anymore, for pity's sake...", said Wilf, getting rather animated, waving his hands. He then mouth to the Doctor over his shoulder 'Sorry'.

"I would if I had half a mind...".

"Well, while you search for the pieces you dropped out of that old head, I'm going to have a chat with the Doctor,", said Wilf, now turning to the Doctor.

"Where's it off to this time, Doctor? Donna told me you had something planned,", Wilfred whispered his last sentence as an irate Mrs. Noble went back into the kitchen.

"Well... To be frank... I have some old friends, and they called up, and... Well, they need some help,", said the Doctor, hemming and hawing.

"Well, who are these 'old friends'? Not that I'd know them, probably,", said Wilf, curious.

"Well... They are four musicians from Liverpool, and... Well, for a time they were called the Beatles.".

Wilfred's expression didn't change at all. "Oh, I think I've heard of them. But I don't go in for the loud, boomy music much, you know. I still listen to Sinatra, and a few others, and that's about it.".

Just then, the Doctor and Wilfred heard some strange sounds. It sounded something like a draft horse had just gallopped into the kitchen after a long run, or maybe the heating vent was clogged.

"What's going on in there, lovey?", said Wilfred, pricking his ears up and turning towards the kitchen.

There was no immediate answer.

"Help! Granddad, help!", called Donna's voice.

The Doctor and Wilf both flew to their feet. The Doctor raced in, and Wilf hobbled as quickly as he could.

There was Donna, trying in vain to help her mother, who was leaning back against the counter-top. She was wheezing horribly, and she was holding her chest.

"I think she's having a heart attack!", shouted Donna.

Mrs. Noble stared at the Doctor with wide eyes, and she was... Smiling.

"Mrs. Noble, can you talk?", said the Doctor, starting to take her pulse. She took her hand away, and started waving wildly and shaking her head when Donna pulled out her mobile to call 999.

After a deep breath in, Mrs. Noble seemed to come back into a normal breathing pattern.

"You,", she wheezed, pointing to the Doctor. "You know the Beatles?".

"Yeah, they're friends. They're cool.".

"Ah, it's the concert hall all over again,", said Wilf, throwing his hands up. "She went out one night to see these Beagles with her friends, and the police took her home. She fainted on the front row, for whatever reason I can't guess, and the bobbies had to pull her out of the crowd before she got ran over. They tell me the screams at those things are so loud you've got to wear earplugs. I can understand why you'd scream. Young men, their hair flopping down into their ears, shaking their heads about like wet terriers...", said Wilf.

"It was the Beatles, Granddad,", corrected Donna.

"Oh, however you like it, Beagles, Beatles. I tell you what to call it. It's them blasted hippies!", he said, casting his hands in the air, and starting back towards the living room.

"There aren't any hippies anymore, Granddad!".

"I know very well there aren't, Miss Smarty Pants! I get out, you know,", he said sounding irritated, but he turned to Donna and smiled and gave a wink. "But what's in this generation is a whole lot worse. Punching holes in themselves until the wind whistles through them when there comes up a gust, dying their hair all the colors of the bleeding rainbow...".

"Oh, my word,", gasped Mrs. Noble, ignoring her father. "Donna, you be a good girl, and when you meet them, somehow mention me, or something. You must, or there will be no puddings at Christmas. And if you could get your mother a souvenir of some sort-", Mrs. Noble rambled.

"What?! What are you talking about? Meet who? And why are you acting so... weird?", demanded Donna.

"If anyone's acting weird, it's you, Donna!", shouted Mrs. Noble.

Donna gave her grandfather a look in the living room, and he returned it.

"The concert hall all over again...", he muttered, turning on the television.

"When I meet WHO, Mum?!", Donna demanded.

"Whad'you mean, 'WHO?'?! Haven't you heard anything we just said?! Your maniac is friends with the Beatles! And that's why I'm telling you; give me a reason to think that this blue box stuff isn't just a bunch of malarkey! Bring something back! Better yet, bring one of them back. I tell you Donna, marry a rich man, you'll never have to work in an office again...".

"I still don't get it!", said Donna, throwing up her hands and starting over to pick up her bag sitting next to the refridgerator.

Mrs. Noble just turned and gave her 'a look'. Something clicked in Donna's eyes. She turned to the Doctor, wearing the same look.

"No,", she breathed.

"Yeah.".

Donna turned back to her mother.

"If you meet them, tell them about poor little Sylvia Mott, listening to their records every night for her entire teenage years-", started Mrs. Noble.

"And her poor parents, hearing the blasted booming through the walls every one of those nights, and being responsible when the coppers came to respond to noise disturbance calls every time she had her friends over...", added Wilfred.

"Oh, Dad!", shouted Sylvia.

"You've opened a can of worms, Doctor,", Wilfred snickered.

"No, he's gone and opened a can of fond memories, that's what he's done!", retorted Sylvia.

"Anyway...", interjected the Doctor, "If we want to get anywhere, we'd better be off once again.".

"You're leaving already?", said Wilf, aroused from the sofa.

"I'm afraid so. I hate to rush, but I need to get to the boys. They need help.".

Donna turned to her mother, and they started singing in unison; "HELP! I need somebody! HELP! Not just anybody!".

Wilf laughed to himself, and the Doctor nearly did, hardly able to believe that the Mrs. Noble he knew could act so... Young. And happy.

"Why do they need help, anyway?", asked Donna.

"I don't know yet. John just called. We've got to get there.".

Donna suppressed an excited smile.

"Well, as always, good luck Doctor,", said Wilfred, shaking the Doctor's hand fervently.

"And be careful with my little girl,", he said, hugging Donna.

"I will,", agreed the Doctor.

"Happy birthday, Granddad. I feel like I shouldn't leave,", said Donna.

"Oh, Donna. It's a big universe out there. I want you to see it. One more year in the life of an 83 year old man shouldn't be anything to hold you back when you've got all that at your feet.". Wilfred was smiling reassuringly, but there were tears pooling in his eyes, as there usually were when Donna took off again.

"Oh, Donna,", said Mrs. Noble, pushing in to hug her daughter. "You be careful. When will you be back?".

"Soon,", answered Donna.

"Now I want to hear all about this whole thing! Every detail! Remember everything!", instructed Sylvia.

"All right, Mum,", said Donna.

There was a moment of silence. Donna gave a brief look over the faces of her family and her house.

"Ready?".

"Ready,", said the Doctor, slipping out the door. Donna followed, carrying her bag.

They walked out to the TARDIS parked on the front lawn, and the Doctor went inside with a wave. Donna stood at the door and waved for almost a full minute, answering questions and agreeing at least 5 times to be careful and not to fall into a black hole.

The Doctor finally got tired of waiting, so he started lifting the TARDIS up gently, gradually into the air. They were above the roof of the house and Sylvia was still shouting up intructions, and Donna's arm was getting tired, and Sylvia had a hard time hearing Donna's responses of "I will!". Wilfred eventually had to drag his daughter back into the house, and with a last wave, they were off.

Donna closed the doors, and started carrying her bag up to the console. She sat down on the seat behind the console and put her fists under her chin, as if she were waiting for something. The Doctor continued fiddling with switches and dials.

"Oi! Spaceman!", she finally said.

He turned.

"The story, mate?!", she demanded.

"What story?".

"The story of all this Beatles stuff. I didn't think you'd be into that kind of stuff.".

"Well,", he started, "It's a long one.".

"Oh, come on, Doctor Robert!", prodded Donna. She still sat, waiting.

"All right,", resigned the Doctor. "We don't have time to tell the whole thing, but I've met them several times, all in different bodies, of course, but they know me best as this version of myself. Well, a friend of mine and I met them a long time ago, and we sort of went on a short trip in the TARDIS. It was just a little diddly trip, but it was fun, and they were brilliant. And I guess they didn't forget it.".

"I don't know how they bloody could!", cried Donna. "How could anyone forget all this?", she said, motioning around the TARDIS.

"Oh, and by the way,", he added. "I'm not Doctor Robert.".

"Whatever you say, but don't be so sure...", she teased.

"Oh, I'll tell you what we did inspire, though.".

Donna's jaw dropped.

"You didn't really?".

"Well, the abandoned spaceship that we accidentally landed in was built a bit like a giant space-submarine, and it was so yellow it hurt your eyes.".

"OH! You don't mean that!", shouted Donna.

"Yuh-huh,", nodded the Doctor.

"How long ago was this?".

The Doctor swallowed.

"Oh, ages ago...", he replied. He downcasted his eyes. "When Rose was with me. Paul, he... Well, they were all very fond of her.".

"Oh. I think she must have been easy for blokes to fall for.".

The Doctor was silent for a moment, surprised that she had heard the words that he hadn't spoken.

"The easiest.".

"Anyway, I can't wait to meet them. They're just so... Cool! When are we going?", said Donna, trying to change the subject, but enthusiastically.

"'64, and may I say, I think you'll totally dig it,", said the Doctor.

"Oh, then we're catching them in their prime. Oh, I'm so excited. But Doctor, tell me the truth... What are they like?".

"Oh, they're as you said; cool. They're fun to be around, quite energetic, quite creative, et cetera. They're always joking and horsing around. You'll find out plenty,", said the Doctor, setting their desination.

"And Donna?".

"Yeah?".

"I think you might find that dressing for the occasion might be fun,", he said, pointing upwards towards the extensive wardrobe department in the TARDIS.

"Right,", said Donna, marching up the stairs without hesitation.

The riding was smooth to 1964, and knowing where they were going, the TARDIS set all era-appropriate clothes in places easy for Donna to find. There was a bright green dress laid out on the bench just as she came in, with comfortable white flats on the ground below, and a purple nylon scarf draped across the dress.

When Donna came back down the stairs, she looked the part, absolutely. She had traded her jeans and purple knit cardigan for a quite green dress, that came to about shin-length, and she had pulled her hair up and tied the scarf smartly around the elastic. It stood out nicely in her red hair.

"Hey!", said the Doctor when he saw her, looking pleasantly surprised.

"So whad'you say, spaceman? Can you dig it? ".

"It's boss! Yeah, neato,", nodded the Doctor in approval.

"Really?", asked Donna, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt.

"Yeah, I dig, I dig!", he said fervently.

"Good.".

*THWONG! boom*

"We haven't just landed, have we?", asked Donna.

"Yeah.".

"How's that, then?!", demanded Donna.

"Well, as I was telling Wilf, I discovered that bananas really can grow on Mars, but the reason for my discovery was unfortunately not purely for the appreciation of bananas. Banana juice, when processed correctly and steeped for about a hundred years with neutron oil, can be used as exceptional break dampers. You just take a bucket full, dump it into the brake fluid mainframe, mind you don't get it on you, it doesn't come off skin, let alone cloth, and Vwala! Molto bene! She flies like an eagle in the sky!", said the Doctor, walking and talking.

"All right, then. But I sort of miss it, the riding. It adds, hmm, a certain something, a je ne sais quoi, a certain element of 'Please God let me live',", commented Donna passingly.

The Doctor furrowed his brows and ducked back around the blue column in the middle of the console to look back at Donna.

"Yeah. I miss it too. I just got bored and decided to try out the banana oil.".

"Well, it's too late now,", sighed Donna, eyeing the exit, eager to get out the doors.

"But it's not!", exclaimed the Doctor, remembering the solution he had found one time when he had accidentally dropped a pot of steaming hot tomato soup into the break fluid mainframe.

"I just have to jack up the plug shelf, let it drain, come back, unscrew the hoses, turn on the heat proctectant shields, and then turn up the homeostasis default temperature on the panel on the console, eradicating the banana oil by burning it out of existance, while the normal break fluid remains totally unharmed!".

"Like cleaning your oven?".

"Yup,", said the Doctor, starting back off the back side of the console and down into the depths of the TARDIS workings.

Donna trailed after the Doctor.

After struggling with a very stiff, rusty car jack, the first part of their procedure was completed.

"All right, now we need to head out. We've faffed about with this enough for now. It'll drain, and then when we get back in, it'll be all set. And then... hopefully,", the Doctor dwindled off to a murmur as he fiddled some more with the jack.

"Hopefully what?".

"Well, I'll level with you. What I meant was 'hopefully I won't make a little boo-boo and turn the power up too high and turn this baby nuclear'.".

Donna blinked.

Once the Doctor and Donna were back on the main level of the TARDIS, Donna started for the doors eagerly.

"Is it really all like you see on TV, Doctor?".

"Is what like you see on TV?".

"The Sixties! Bright colors, go-go boots and lava lamps?".

"You'll see," , said the Doctor suspensefully, raising his eyebrows, taking her hand, and pulling her out the blue box.

 _A/N; So there's another chapter. Hope you all like it! And PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE review! I would LOVE to hear your opinions on this story so far!_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N; Firstly, I would just like to say - You might as well expect my chapters to always be long. I am hopeless at keeping them abbreviated. I hope you will enjoy this chapter. It's when things really get going... And PLEEEEEEEEASE REVIEW! I'm past the point of *wanting* to know what you think, I'm to the point of *NEEDING* to know what you think! Don't be shy!_

Donna Noble and the Doctor stepped out onto the pavement outside the TARDIS. Donna was holding her breath, expecting an explosion of color and vintageness. But what she got was not that.

"You have GOT. To be kidding me.".

They appeared to be parked between a double-wide ten-yard rubbish bin and the plain side of a brick building. There was trash lying around here and there, paper bags, aluminum cans. To their immediate left was a gate of close-woven wire. And it was shut.

"Are you sure we're where we're supposed to be?".

"Yep. I parked us in the best spot in the house.".

"Why does that not surprise me...", mumbled Donna.

"Oh, you! I had to park in the safest place, and this was it. Now come on!", said the Doctor, dragging her back up the alley in the opposite direction to the gate.

In a moment, they were out of the alley. And then Donna could feast her eyes.

"Oh. WOW!", said Donna.

Vintage cars were parked along the sides of and pouring down the street before them like a flood. There were people walking down the street, men in suits and hats, carrying briefcases, and women wearing colorful dresses, the ends of their hair brushed up and out.

"Donna Noble, welcome to Abbey Road, 1964!".

An awed "Oh..." escaped Donna, still gawping excitedly as the Doctor pulled her on down the street.

"Ah!", said the Doctor, looking up at the side of a building on their left. "This should be it!".

"What?".

"EMI Abbey Road,", said the Doctor, pushing through the door and tugging Donna on in with him.

He stepped lightly up to a reception desk.

A man in his mid-30s was sitting behind the desk, his hair greased back, wearing a crisp white shirt and a black tie. He was typing vigorously on a typewriter while looking back at a piece of paper on his desk for reference.

"Good morning. May I help you?".

"Hi, yes!", said the Doctor, brightly smiling. "I was asked by a Mr. Lennon to meet with him today in the canteen.".

The man immeidately looked skeptical. He had just fended off a trio of hyperventilating teenage girls who had followed the Beatles into the studio earlier that morning. He didn't want to go through the frankly embarrassing experience of fending off a pair in their thirties. He didn't get paid enough for this job.

"Do you have an appointment, Mr...?", he said, reaching for his appointment book.

"I'm The Doctor. Um, no. It's a personal matter. He's expecting us.".

"Doctor who?", said the man, picking up his telephone.

"Uhhh, em, Smith! Yes,", stammered the Doctor.

The man dialed a 2 on his rotary telephone and waited a few seconds.

"Mr. Martin, I'm dreadfully sorry to interrupt you, but there are a Dr. and Mrs. Smith here, and they say they have a lunch appointment with Mr. Lennon.".

"Um, no, we're not married,", said the Doctor and Donna in unison, but the man ignored them.

"All right. Jolly good, then,", said the man. Then he lowered his voice a little and turned away from the Doctor and Donna. "Listen, have you got anything good yet? - I knew you'd say that. They're just great. I might come down on my luncheon. Okay. Jolly good.".

*Clunk*.

"I'm sorry, but it appears that Mr. Lennon has no recollection of this appointment. I cannot grant you admission. They are recording as we speak, and they are not to come out for their luncheon for another half an hour.".

"But, but John called me. He must remember. He said he needed my urgent help!", insisted the Doctor as the man got up from behind his desk and started ushering them towards the door.

"Mightn't I extend my sincerest and most profuse apologies, Dr. and Mrs. Smith, but I'm sure you can understand that I have to keep it nice and quiet around here for our artists and technicians. Things have to run smoothly, otherwise no records would be made. If you have no appointment, I cannot let you past my desk. And, begging your pardon, I have to see to the security of this facility. So please, make an appointment and come back another day.".

The door slammed in their faces, and they were standing out on the pavement on the side of the street.

"I don't get it. John just called me.".

"Are you sure it was him?".

"Of course I am!", inisisted the Doctor, giving the side of the building a swift boot as they walked back down the street.

"Maybe he can't talk to you about it at work, whatever it is that he wants to talk about,", reasoned Donna.

"He said to come to the studio!", said the Doctor, scratching his head and messing up his hair.

"Well, maybe he forgot,", said Donna, trying to console the Doctor, who was now pacing up and down the walk in a little strip, which made several bystanders give him rather peculiar looks.

"He couldn't have! He said they were in trouble and needed my help, and they asked me to come on this specific day and - Oh.". The Doctor's eyes turned into dinner plates, staring off into the sky.

"What?".

The Doctor looked around, and across the street he spotted a man reading a newspaper. He sprinted out into traffic. Donna gawped.

"Doctor! Have you gone mad?!", she screeched, trailing after him, mouthing apologies to the cars that had to slam on their breaks as she scooted past their wide chrome bumpers.

Once Donna made it across the street alive, she saw the Doctor ducking down and bobbing around to try to see the date on the front of the paper that the man was reading. The man eventually became aware that there was a man with unruly hair hiding behind his paper, and he gave a rather indignant look, mumbled 'nutter', and folded his paper hastily and started walking away briskly.

"So are we on time?", asked Donna.

"No. I hit it a day too early. Bloody time proximity regulator. It's been making noises since Poosh. Bloody, bloody explosion. There's a hole in the impact absorbers, and it's right next to the bloody, bloody computer mainframe for the regulator. One more thing to fix on the old girl...", cursed the Doctor.

"Well, what do we do now? Hang around until tomorrow?", sulked Donna, disappointed.

"Crackers no! We'll just surprise them. We'll be there before they even call us!", he exclaimed, winking at Donna.

"But how are we going to get in?", asked Donna as they rushed back across the crosswalk (that Donna wasn't quite thinking of at that moment).

"Oh, don't worry about that,", said the Doctor wryly, holding up his psychic paper.

The Doctor directed Donna back down the alley to the TARDIS.

"What are we doing?", Donna asked after they entered the blue box.

The Doctor rushed up to the console and opened a hatch in the screened flooring. He didn't answer Donna immediately. He rummaged around in the compartment, and Donna could hear various clinkings and clankings and a few thuds. In a moment, his head and arms were completely submerged in the compartment, digging deep into his large collection of odds and ends. In a moment, he pulled out a large black box, an empty briefcase, a bottle of something Donna couldn't identify at that moment, and a classy men's hat.

Finally, he answered.

"We're getting in.".

The Doctor took the bottle and removed the lid, smacking the bottom of the bottle, causing the viscious, sticky, clear substance to ooze out onto his hand. The Doctor whipped a little mirror out of his pocket and handed it to Donna. He pointed for her to hold it out in front of him.

"Are all alien's this vain?", she mumbled.

The Doctor didn't reply. He was too wrapped up in combing the gel through his hair. When he was finished (which by that time Donna's arm was getting stiff), The Doctor no longer looked like himself - his hair was neatly greased down and parted on the side, much like some of the businessmen of the time.

"Blow, Donna,", he said, bending over to face the top of his head towards her.

"What? Blow? I'll give you a blow,", she cried.

"Oh, shut it, I can't very well put on a hat with all this junk wet. It'll stain, and then Frankie will be very cross with me if I ruin his hat,", said the Doctor.

Donna didn't stop to ask who in the world Frankie was and just started blowing with all her might on the Doctor's head. She was starting to get lightheaded by the time he was finally satisfied.

"And now,", he said, reaching over and picking up the hat off the ground and sticking it on his head.

"How do I look?,", he said, still admiring himself in the mirror at the expense of Donna's arm.

"Like Frank Sinatra,", said Donna. Then realization hit her, her mind going back to what the Doctor had just finished saying earlier. Her eyes then resembled dinner plates. She aimed them at the Doctor.

The Doctor avoided her gaze in a manner that usually meant "You've just answered you're own question", and started making ridiculous faces at himself in the mirror.

"Luck be a Lady tonight,", the Doctor sang to himself.

"Funny, I actually sang that song in a cabaret act in Las Vegas once. It was fun, until I accidentally got engaged to the pianist. She was quite cross when I made my exit. Through the window and then, well, running down the Strip...".

Donna let out a single laugh and let her arm fall to her side.

"Good, now that you've fixed your hair, how are we going to get into the studio?", asked Donna, impatient.

"Ah, Donna, you underestimate the power of dressing the part,", he said, now fixing his tie straight and picking up his briefcase. He then hoisted the black box under his arm and started out of the TARDIS.

"What's that, then?", Donna asked, looking at the box inquisitively.

"It's what's left of a microwave oven with bits and pieces of a few meters and gauges stuffed inside it. But it looks like an equilizer or something, doesn't it?", he said, raising his arm a little to show Donna all the sliding components and complicated-looking lettering and labelling around them.

Donna gave him a look.

"We're not going to...?".

"Oh yes.".

"HA!", Donna retorted.

"Hmm, hmm, hmm,", said the Doctor mischievously as he locked back the TARDIS doors from the outside.

He and Donna started back up the alley. Donna was thinking they were going to try the main entrance again, but the Doctor stopped at a door on the left side of their path.

"Here,", he said. Donna turned back when she realized what they were doing.

The Doctor tried the knob, but it was locked. He had Donna hold his briefcase as he used his left hand to retrieve his sonic screwdriver from his jacket pocket.

With one quick bleep and a flash of blue light, they were in. As soon as they entered, the saw a directory on the left side of the narrow hallway.

"Studio 1 - Block 1-10. Studio 2 - Block 11-20"

The Doctor needed to see no more.

"Studio 2,", said the Doctor, now starting down the hall looking like he meant business. That was good, otherwise he would never pass for a businessman.

They wound around and around in empty hallways not meeting a soul for several minutes.

"Do we know where we're going?", Donna finally asked.

"No,", answered the Doctor truthfully.

The place was a maze. They passed several doors, but none of them said 'Block 11' or anything even similar to what they were looking for.

Finally, they rounded another corner, where they ran upon an elderly man who was pushing along a cleaning cart.

"Morning, gov. G'day, madam,", he said, passing them, tipping his cap.

"Um, sorry, I don't want to hold you up, but I wonder if you could help us?", the Doctor stopped him.

"Yes, sir?".

"Could you possibly direct me to Studio 2?".

The man then started to look over the pair of them inquisitively, realizing that he did not recognize either of them. The Doctor saw the signs, and immediately whipped out his psychic paper and held it up.

"I'm Mr. em, Jones, and this is my assistant, Miss Noble. We're techinicians. We just received word that they needed this piece of equipment in Studio 2,", he said, tapping the box he was carrying.

The man's expression then turned back to friendliness.

"Yes, of course, sir. Very good, sir. You take this hallway down, take a right, and the door to the soundboard will be on yer right.".

"Oh, thank you ever so much,", smiled the Doctor, starting on once again.

"Jones?", Donna whispered to him. "You don't sound Welsh to me,", she teased.

"I'm posh Welsh, thanks. And I couldn't very well say Smith again.".

They followed the directions until they were at the door.

Then the Doctor stopped momentarily.

"Do we knock or do we just go in?", he asked Donna quietly.

"I dunno, what do technicians do?".

"I dunno.".

"Well, knock. You're supposed to be a posh Welsh businessman slash technician. They knock, I'm sure,", resolved Donna.

Knock-knock.

The door opened in a few seconds. It was a blonde man, with his hair greased down in the same style as the Doctor's, wearing a white shirt and black tie.

"Yes?".

"Em. Yes. I'm, em, McLeod. Douglas McLeod, and this es my assistant, Miss Noble. We've ben loooking fer Studyo 2. Is this et?".

Donna nearly busted out laughing. He was supposed to be Welsh. He must have decided at the last second he couldn't do a Welsh accent. His Scottish was surprisingly well executed.

"Yes, sir. This is it. Can I help you, Mr. McLeod?".

"EMI called us and told us to bring down one of these at once,", continued Mr. McLeod, tapping the box he had under his arm.

"I'm afraid we didn't order it,", said the man, eyeing the box skeptically. "At least I didn't.".

"Well, somebody did. May we come in?", said Donna, pushing past the man.

Before her was an enormous soundboard, with tape machines and all kinds of technical looking things all crowded into the room. Above the main board there was a large window looking out into a large room. And there they were.

"Yes, et's quite a li'le machine,", said the Doctor, setting the box down on a table in the middle of the room.

"Yes, I'm sure. But, begging your pardon, what does it do?".

"Oh, it's, em, et produces high fidelity recordings en encredible clarity,", lied the Doctor. He didn't like to lie, but the truth would come out in a few minutes.

"Well, if you don't mind, Mr. McLeod, we have to finish a bit of work before luncheon. So just go ahead and hook this fixture up and we'll try it after lunch,", said the man.

"Very good, Mr...?", asked the Doctor.

"Martin. I'm George Martin,", said the man, shaking the Doctor's hand.

"Pleasure,", returned the Doctor.

The Doctor then started to fidget around with the box as Mr. Martin turned back to his soundboard, turning on a tape machine and started talking into the microphone.

"All right, fellows. Once more from the middle-eight, keep it clean. Take 9,", he said.

The Doctor was trying to look busy crouching on the floor with the machine in his lap. Donna sidled up beside him.

"What do we do?", she whispered.

"Can you do me a huge, huge favor?".

"What?", asked Donna, dreading what he might say.

"When I tell you, turn towards the window and faint.".

"You what?!", she hissed into his ear.

"Unless you want to go through the embarrassment of pretending to wire a gutted microwave oven to this tape machine, yeah.".

"But why?", said Donna, as they started to duck under the table, pretending to do something with the high fidelity microwave oven.

"Oh, it's fine. You'll be fine. It'll be over in a flash. I would do it myself, but... Yeah. So please?", begged the Doctor.

"But I don't want to faint! I never fainted in my life! I don't think I even know bloody how!", hissed Donna even louder.

The Doctor laid a hand on her shoulder and gave her the silent 'look'. Donna sighed deeply and resigned.

"Fine. Do you want a drama faint,", she demonstrated, laying her hand across her forehead and gently starting to fall back. "A swoon faint,", she demonstrated starting to crumple to the floor. "Or a cardiac arrest faint?", she illustrated this one with extra vigor. She grabbed her chest, crossed her eyes, and mimed choking to death.

"I think you've done this before,", the Doctor whispered back, looking at her with amused disapproval.

"... Maybe,", said Donna, avoiding his gaze. "All right, I have. The first two I use a lot when I am trying to get Mum and Granddad to stop fighting over the television or the last pudding. It gets ugly if I don't stage a distraction fast. I used the last one at work once when my boss was trying to fire me. Even the paramedics were convinced at first. I was brilliant, except my insurance went up. But my boss did keep me a few extra weeks.".

The Doctor blinked. "All right. Just pretend the lads are in there fighting over a pudding.".

"So exactly why do I have to do this?".

"Just trust me. I'll tell you when.".

Just then, Mr. Martin ducked and looked under the table, noticing the chatter.

"All right under there? Not having any trouble, are we?".

"Oh, yess, jolly goot, as you leds down here sey! Not to warry, sir!", the Doctor called back.

They waited a few moments. Then the Doctor ducked over to Donna and whispered quickly in her ear; "Now.".

Donna fell flat on the floor onto her back with her legs still folded under her from her position behind the table.

"Not there, Donna!", rasped the Doctor, wishing he had his normal hair to muss up in frustration.

"Go up to the soundboard and then look through the window, and notice them. You're supposed to be a hysterical fan, not a nutty technician wallowing on the rug!", he whispered.

Luckily, they were positioned right next to the tape machine that was gently humming and Mr. Martin was listening in on what was happening in the other room through headphones. If this hand't been the case, their entire ridiculous conversation would have been clearly heard by him.

Donna indignantly got up and straightened her dress. The boys were just finishing another take, apparently, and Mr. Martin was talking into the microphone.

Donna started to walk up to the soundboard. She pretended to examine a few switches to the side of the board, and then she looked up and saw through the window four young men with dark, floppy hair, wearing button-down shirts with ties and trousers. One was sat at a drum set, and there was a microphone hanging down from the ceiling on a long wire directly above him. There were two others, guitars strapped around their shoulders, standing in front of microphones. One was sitting in a chair to the side, looking a little lost. They were talking amongst themselves, motioning with their hands, saying things that Donna couldn't hear.

She actually was very interested in watching them. They were doing quite ordinary things (one was adjusting the tuning on his guitar, another was shifting around and doing a quirky dance in front of his microphone {Okay, maybe they weren't 'quite ordinary'}), but it was fascinating. It music history being made right before her eyes.

She was too interested for a moment, it seemed. There was a cough coming from behind the table. Donna then remembered her task.

As best as anyone could recall, there was an ear-splitting, blood-curdling scream, nearly scaring poor Mr. Martin completely out of his seat, and then Donna folded and crumpled helplessly to the floor.

"Bloody hell,", muttered Mr. Martin, turning away from his soundboard to observe the incapacitated young assistant technician sprattled out on the carpet.

Three of the young men inside the sound booth were now confused at the sudden absence of their technician, but one had seen it all happen while the others had been talking.

Ringo got up from his drums, sticks still in hand, and started out of the booth to see what was going on. When he opened the door to the other room, he accidentally jostled the body of Donna, smacking the door against her side.

"Oh, I'm sorry,", he mumbled, not even sure if she could hear him.

He bent down beside her, where there was already another man crouching and pretending to tend to her.

"I hope she's all right. I 'it her pretty hard with the door,", he said.

"Oh, she's fine,", said the other man. Something about the sound of that voice caused Ringo's ears to prick up. He felt like he vaguely recognized the voice, but could not put a face nor a name with it. He looked up at the man, who's hat was blocking his face until he removed it, and he ruffled his hair a bit.

"Don't worry about this, Ringo, I'll just call security, and -", started Mr. Martin, but his words were not heard by anyone in the room but himself.

"DOCTOR!".

"Hello, Ringo,", the Doctor said, smirking wryly.

 _A/N; And here they are, ladies and gentleman... THE BEATLES! They're finally here._

 _If you review, the TARDIS will materialize on your front step and you'll get swept off on an adventure._

 _And that's a promise I can totally make. *Coughs and looks to the side*_

 _;)_

 _As always, thanks, peace, love, rock 'n roll, TARDIS. 3_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N; So here's another chapter. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it (bc even in fiction the arrival of the Beatles is exciting XD) And hey, if you love it, I'd LOVE to know that you LOVE it! Review plzzzzzzz_

Ringo was nearly to the point of joining Donna on the floor. His eyes were huge, his mouth gaping. He was speechless for a few moments.

"DOCTOR!", he finally repeated.

"Ringo, boy oh boy, you're a sight for sore eyes!", the Doctor returned, his joy heightened at seeing Ringo's reaction to his reappearance.

The Doctor grabbed Ringo's limp hand (from which he had just let his sticks fall to the floor) and started shaking it vigorously. They didn't even notice that Donna had sat up, tired of pretending to be incapacitated.

"I - I dunno what to say,", he stammered.

"Well, say hello, m'lad!", said the Doctor, now releasing Ringo's arm that was now nearly shaken out of socket.

"Hullo!", he said, finally returning to his senses, picking his sticks up off the floor and setting them down with a clatter on the table.

Just then, three more young men emerged from the booth, hoping to find a clue as to what was going on.

"Ringo, what's going on?", George spoke.

"Who's this?", said Paul, noticing Donna, who was just then getting up off the floor.

"I'm Donna. Donna Noble, thanks,", said Donna, flashing a smile. She hadn't imagined how surreal actually meeting them would be. She felt a little unsteady on her feet, but she tried to hide it for the sake of her pride.

"How d'you do,", he said.

This struck Donna. No one said that anymore (in her time, that is).

"Quite well, thank you, sir,", she said, basking in her opportunity to excercise all the old-fashioned manners she had observed from television.

"I'm John,", John threw in.

"I know,", gushed Donna before she could catch herself. "I - I mean, charmed,", she said, smiling at him.

"George,", said George, offering his hand. Donna shook it.

"Hello,", smiled Donna, her voice lilting and cracking a little.

"I'm sorry, but... you're the bloody Beatles!", she suddenly gushed.

This made them all laugh, all except for George, who gave a fake-shocked expression and said "We are?".

This made them all laugh even more.

They had all been so involved in talking to Donna that none had even noticed the Doctor, chattering by the tape machine with Ringo.

As soon as there was a few second's silence, the man beside Ringo spoke.

"Boys?".

All their heads turned and their jaws dropped simultaneously.

"'Ello.".

You could have counted down from three in the quiet before the storm before they all rushed across the room and attacked the Doctor with scratches on the head and jumping all over him. He finally fell to the floor and was buried under the four boys who were still attacking him and shouting incoherently.

It continued for a ridiculous amount of time before Donna could make two words out:

"-onna! Help!". A hand stuck out of the pile, feeling aimlessly of the air.

She rushed forward, though laughing hysterically. She took the hand, and started to pull the Doctor out of the pile. The boys finally fell back and sat down on the floor. Mr. Martin was now the most confused man in the world, and he had his finger on the telephone dial, still unsure whether he should dial security.

"DOCTOR!", John shouted, rushing forward and shamelessly slapping the Doctor's back until he was nearly beaten down to the ground.

John had just given him a break when George stepped up and started shaking the Doctor's hand so violently that the Time Lord's shoulder silently popped, and he masked his cringe of pain with a smile and an honest laugh. Though no smile could match George's.

After things settled a little, the Doctor straightened his tie, swallowed, and said, "Well. That's a welcome.".

"What are you doing back?!", asked Paul, looking so happy he could burst.

"Oh, knocking about.".

They all then wanted to ask a million questions and attack him at least once more, but they felt they couldn't until they were out of the booth and no longer in the presence of their engineer.

"George, you don't mind us going to lunch about now?", George asked their technician.

"No, not at all,", said George, completely bewildered and apt to blurt out anything (when they really had stacks of work left to get done). He realized his blunder.

"Actually-".

"Dig this, Martin - we're going. We'll see you when we see you!", said John leading all the boys out the door including the Doctor, and Donna trailed behind.

"But - but, who's this?!", asked Mr. Martin, totally lost.

"I'm the Doctor. I'm not Mr. McLeod, and I'm not Scottish. And that's a microwave oven. Sorry,", said the Doctor, pointing to the useless bit of equipment.

"But -", the door closed in his face. "Doctor who?", he finished his question to the dead air.

Mr. Martin sat back down in his chair, fell back against the soundboard, and staired at the door that had just closed behind his artists. What - on Earth - had just happened?

The Doctor had already been bombarded with at least six dozen questions by the time they made the short trek to the canteen. His hair had been ruffled beyond hope of repair (and not by him).

They sat down at a booth, and the boys didn't even stop to order anything. They just kept talking and laughing with joy.

"So how's the TARDIS?", asked George, blurting out every question that came to his mind.

"Is she still blue, sailing in the blue?", added John.

"Yes, she's fine, fine. Except for a few little things... But I'll get those fixed today.".

The boys just then noticed that Donna had sat down beside the Doctor.

"So how do you two know eachother? Cousins? Siblings?", said John cleverly, pointing between Donna and the Doctor.

"Sure, I look just like him, can't you see,", said Donna, cackling.

"Really? I can see the resemblence, though,", he teased.

"You can, can you? Cheeky. I don't look like any bloody space person. He's so bloody skinny, he blows over when a car passes by, the Marsian,", said Donna.

"Oh. Because I thought you looked a bit Marsian yourself in the face,", continued John.

This all continued and heightened until the Doctor knew they were in for trouble. These two were going to bounce off eachother's insults and banter thrown every which way until innocent bystanders became victims of whiplash.

"'Ey, 'ey, you two! Stop it!", cried the Doctor, finally able to break it up when Donna was starting to chant 'Liverpuddle, Liverpuddle' repetitively after he made fun of her accent.

"Oh, come on, Doc! Just a bit of fun, right Donald?", said John to Donna. Steam could be seen coming out of Donna's ears. Her expression sent John into standing up and howling with laughter.

"Come on, John, sit,", said Paul, padding his vacant seat.

John settled down and sat down finally.

"Really, though. I'm from Chiswick.".

"2008,", added in the Doctor.

"Yeah. I ended up in the TARDIS at Christmas on my wedding day. And that's how we met.".

"Interesting. How did that happen?", asked Paul.

"Oh, it's a long story, but it turns out my fiancee was dosing my coffee up with huon particles and was going to kill me, and he was in league with an evil giant spider lady, and they drained the Thames, and stuff. He's dead now.".

"Oh. I'm sorry,", said Paul quietly, now completely flabbergasted.

"Oh, it's fine. He was dreadful. It never would have worked out between us. Especially since he was going to feed me to a pack of spiders.".

"That would do it,", said John.

"Yuh-huh,", said Donna, munching on a cracker. "It never would been the same between us after my, well, my death.". Everyone was silent, except for George, who picked up a napkin and tried to disguise his laughter with a fake coughing fit (but he failed).

"So, Doctor, I'm waiting. You haven't mentioned Rose,", said Paul, a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth.

There were a few moments of silence, and Paul's smile shrank as the Doctor looked thoughtfully down at the table, and Donna started looking in the other direction.

"I think I'm going to the girl's room,", she said, getting up.

The Doctor continued to look down.

Paul's heart fell further and further down into his stomach as he watched the Doctor's brown eyes turn blue and fill with silent tears.

"Doctor, mate,", started George, who had the best view of the tears forming in the Time Lord's eyes. He gave the Doctor a pat on the shoulder.

Then the Doctor sucked in breath and wiped his face with his long fingers.

"She's gone, Paul. I'm sorry.". His face contorted as he tried to lock his jaw and keep his lip from trembling.

Paul fell back against the back of his seat heavily. It was his turn to look down.

At length, Paul was the first one to speak again.

He opened his mouth slowly.

"How...", his voice cracked. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes for a moment to collect himself. "How did she die?". A tear fell quickly from his eye that he wasn't even aware of until it was halfway down to his chin.

In his mind, Paul was remembering in vivid detail the day he had spent with Rose. Falling into the river in the rainforest, lying in the field of grass under the blue sky, stumbling into the mod cafe in the strange world of Kentor. There was a bit of the sunshine his heart had soaked up that day still left in him, a dear memory that made him happier than almost any other memory he possessed.

When he was down, sometimes he would privately let himself wonder where she was now, what she was doing, what kind of trouble she was getting into. And mainly he wondered if she remembered him; left to take the slow path through time and space, waiting for the day that he could see her again.

But then he stopped to think - what was the universe now without her? The thought of her not being anywhere at all made his eyes fill so full of tears that he could no longer see the pattern on the tabletop in front of him.

He had thought more than once a thought that he did not allow himself to have very often, and only in his weakest moments, for a very brief second; Rose was the first girl that he ever really loved.

"She's not dead.".

Paul's eyes lifted in hope.

The Doctor shook his head.

"But she's trapped. In an alternate dimension.".

"Is she all right?", he asked quietly.

"She's fine, she's with her family. And Mickey.".

The name was familiar to Paul, but he didn't ask.

"But I might tell you, you might still see her. Many years from now. The Powell Estate, London. 2006.".

Paul just looked down, and nodded his head.

His bandmates looked at him with pity. This news also grieved their hearts, but not like they knew it would Paul. For weeks after their adventure, Paul had still talked every day about the TARDIS, and Rose, and the Doctor, even more than the others had.

There was a long, long silence, and one could tell by looking over the faces of all of them that they were mulling over old memories.

The night after their return to March 1964 they had all gathered at John's house. They had recorded all that they had seen and done in a book (penned by John). They recounted detailed descriptions of everything; the yellow "submarine", the planet called Jude, the White House air vents, the Australian bush and how hot it was. Everything. After that, they all made an agreement with eachother; they could never tell. Anyone. They knew no one would believe them, so it was best to keep it private. After writing the book, John had hidden it under the floorboards in his music room in his house.

"Isn't this a bit daft, hiding all of this from everyone?", George had asked.

"I can see the headlines now; 'BEATLES IN SPACE!', 'BEATLES EXPOSED AS MARSIANS!'", Paul had dubiously replied.

All of the bandmates were thinking thoughts like this when the Doctor finally spoke again, snapping them out of their daze.

"She was awfully fond of you, Paul. She talked about you, all of you, every day afterwards,", said the Doctor, sucking in another strained breath.

"She loves you, Doctor.".

Everyone stopped. Paul had been the one speaking.

"It was as plain as day, as the nose on your face. We all knew it. Wherever she is now, she feels the same still.".

The Doctor said nothing for a moment.

"Don't mourn her loss. I'm sure she still thinks of you lads every day. And you may still see her. Nothing has changed for you,", said the Doctor, trying to encourage the boys at his own expense.

George just smiled a little, realizing the truth in what he said. Paul took a napkin and quickly wiped his eyes with it before cramming it in his pocket. John bit his lip thoughtfully. Ringo began fiddling with his large cufflinks.

At that moment, Donna reentered the canteen. Perfect timing.

"Well, if it ain't Donald!", said John, greeting her. She glared at him, and he gave a little giggle.

"Keep on, sunshine. You'll get yours yet,", said Donna, never giving up on teasing.

"Oh, I'll get mine yet, lads, didn't you hear the lady? I'm getting mine yet, yes I am. Yet,", giggled John.

"Yet,", said George.

"Yet,", added Ringo.

Silence.

All eyes were on Paul.

"You haven't 'yetted', son,", said John, looking at Paul, who was staring thoughtfully at the salt shaker before him.

"Yet!", he shouted, lifting his eyes and starting to smile again.

"Well, anyhow,", continued the Doctor. "Down to business. I know you lads are in trouble.".

"It's funny you should say that Doctor, because I was going to call you tonight,", said John, shaking his head as if trying to understand.

"You did,", smiled the Doctor mysteriously.

"Right,", said John, now mystified.

"So what's the trouble?".

John turned and nudged George. "Do you want to tell it, mate?".

"No, you were the one that was going to call.".

"Fine, then,", sighed John, as if preparing for a long and difficult explaination.

"Well, it all started back in the spring, not long after you let us all off back at home. The first thing that happened was... weird. Really bonkers.".

"Well, what was it?", prodded the Doctor.

"Well...", said John. "I will try to keep it short. It's a long, long story. Well, this is it; the first thing that happened was when we were at a show back in our dressing room. It was in... you know, I can't even remember where it was. But anyhow, we were in the dressing room, faffing about with some new things we were writing, and then, it happened. And... Well, I'll just tell it. There was a knock on our door. I went to answer it. When I opened the door, there was... Well, there was...,", John was beating around the bush as much as was possible.

"Spit it out, man!".

"Okay... It's just... Well, there was a... Something standing there. I don't know what it was. It could speak, but it definitely wasn't a person. It looked like a, like a... Like a swine.".

"Beg your pardon?".

"A swine, Doctor. An upright swine. I thought it must have been a carnival mask, but it wasn't. It was definitely real.".

"Well, I will tell you that it is possible that such a thing existed. I have had experiences with similar creatures. They aren't necessarily extraterrestrial, but they are genetic mutations created using alien technology.".

"But after I asked him what he was on about, he... Oinked. Then he just asked me if I was a Beatle, in a sort of snorty language. One might call it Pig Latin,", he said, waiting for the laughs. The others giggled, and Ringo rolled out a little drumroll on the table. "And I told him yes, I was a Beatle, and then he just sort of looked at me. And then he wrote something down in a notebook, and then drew his hat down and walked off.".

"Hmm. Interesting.".

"Is this ridiculous, Doctor?", asked John, noticeably embarrassed.

"No, not at all. I believe you. Such creatures have existed.".

"That's not all. There was a time when I was at home, and I was out with Cyn driving, and when I looked in the mirror... There was a metal man driving the car behind me. And he followed us, everywhere we went, every turn we made. I eventually pulled over and started to stop him to see who he was and what he wanted, but he sped off before I could do anything at all.".

"Interesting,", the Doctor repeated. There was a silence. "I have a feeling there was more.".

"Yes. Those were the two big things that happened to me, but there were other things to the other boys. They could tell it better,", he said, handing it over to the others.

"Well, there were multiple incidents, but I'll just tell the important bits so we can get to the point sometime this week...", Paul paused and took a breath in preparation for the story. "Well, the things that happened to me were... Odd. To say the least. Not to mention disturbing. We were on tour in America on a train, and there was this funny looking bloke, he looked... Creepy, like the Grim Reaper. He was wearing a black cloak like some kind of monk, and everyone was giving him queer looks. He hung around in the dining car, and it seemed like he was watching us. And then after that, I needed the loo, and after I made the trip and was coming out, I opened the door, and the Reaper was just standing there. I never saw his face, just the hood. But after I started out walking, the Reaper didn't go into the toilet, he just followed me. He followed me everywhere I went. I decided to test him to see if he really was following me, and he trailed me all the way back to the dining car, all the way to the hold, and when I finally asked him what he was on about, he just made hissing sounds. Suffice to say I, well, I ran.".

"I can't tell you at this moment what that creature was, but I can tell you he could be significantly more dangerous than any pig or metal man,", said the Doctor gravely.

"Well, then,", Paul cleared his throat. "Tell yours, Ring.".

"Okay, this is my big one; I was out getting something out of my car, and when I opened the boot... There was something... I won't go into detail to save some time, but, it introduced itself as an, an 'ood'? It asked if I needed any help carrying me bongos, that's what I'd gone out to get, and he offered to cook me supper, and when I told him no and to get lost, he just stood there. He stood outside me house like a statue for hours, all night, in fact. I barely slept. When I woke up, he was gone off the front lawn.".

"Did you call the police?", asked the Doctor.

"Yes, but when I described the situation, they hung up on me, thinking it was some smart kid trying to have a laugh, especially after I told them my name was Ringo Starr. Bobbies...", sighed Ringo.

"Well, you can't really blame them. Telling the London police that there is an alien on your front lawn with oozy, wet tentacles coming out of their face and holding a glowing white orb might seem a bit suspicious to the typical human policeman of your time...", speculated the Doctor.

"So you know what this 'ood' was, then? That's exactly what I saw!".

"Yes, I know them. They are quite friendly people usually. They are bred for service. They're trained to behave, well, like a butler.".

"Well, that would explain him wanting to make dinner for a perfect stranger,", agreed John.

"Yes. An ood is nothing to fear, though. In usual cases.".

"Well, then on to George's experiences. He's had more than the rest of us...", Ringo trailed off.

"Well, I've been followed multiple times by apparent space people, and one day I even found some kind of a strange midget in my closet. I tried to catch 'im to ask 'im what 'e wanted with me, but 'e ran and jumped out the window. I've received strange telegrams and phone calls, a few asking me all kinds of really potty questions, like what soap I use, but most of them just hung up as soon as I answered. We're used to all the things that kids do, you know, girls calling every five minutes, or showing up at the door trying to pretend they're travelling saleswomen, or just starting a riot outside. But this is different. And then after all that, it happened,", said George, looking down as he said his last sentence.

"What happened?", asked Donna, now engrossed.

"Well... This is why I asked John to call. All of this heightened, until someone broke into the van on tour. And they took something really, really important.".

"What did they take?".

"Well... They stole one of my guitars. We just got back from tour, and we have to get to work on the next album. We've got to get it done quite quickly. We need that guitar, Doctor.".

"I don't understand why the police can't find it?", said the Doctor, trying to understand.

"We didn't call the police.".

"Why not?".

"Don't you see, Doctor? All these events are connected, we are sure. I knew that it was another creepy-crawly that took it. I knew that the bobbies would just think I was flipped out if I told them what had been going on. And then we knew that you were the only one that could help us,", said George.

"I would love to help, but it may be no easy job getting it back, especially since we have no idea who took it or where it went, other than the thief was probably an alien. You lads are so busy with recording, why can't you just use another guitar until I can get your other one back?".

"He could, that's what we tried to persuade him to do, but he is so cheesed off with the whole thing. He is determined that he's going to get it back, no matter the cost, and he insists that if you go looking for it, he's going to go with you,", filled John.

George looked rather indignant before resolving that John had taken the words right out of his mouth.

"I see,", said the Doctor, considering.

"So... Will you take the job?".

"I'm not much of a detective, but I think it can be done.".

"Brilliant!", shouted George joyfully. "I think we can make this right, Doctor, with a little help from such a friend.".

"On the double, Mr. Harrison,", agreed the Doctor.

 _A/N; If you haven't noticed by now, I like to drop little song lyrics and titles into the narrative for my own personal amusement. Sorry if it's cheesy, but notsorry because it gives me a giggle XD_

 _And Ooooooh where's it going to go from here? I dunno. Okay I do. But you don't. So what are your thoughts? It is good? Is it bad? Is it exciting? Is it crap? Review and let me know! Speak your mind and be free, people! :)_


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N; Hello people. Here's another chapter, and I hope you enjoy it._

After their talk in the canteen, the boys ate a quick lunch with the Doctor and Donna. After finishing their sandwiches, they walked back out of the canteen.

"When do we leave?", asked George, chomping at the bit.

"Now, if you want,", said the Doctor.

The boys were a little astonished. They were getting so used to rigid schedules that they had little say in that the simple prospect of making the decision to get up and go where they wanted was almost enough to send them into a state of shock. And they loved it.

"We're ready!", they all agreed.

"All right, then,", said the Doctor, turning and leading them back towards the front exit.

"But don't we have to go pack up our instruments and tell George we're going first?", said Ringo, hanging back.

The Doctor stopped, and the party behind him did as well.

"Ring,", he said stepping up to him and taking his shoulders. "It's a time machine, mate. You can be back before George even thinks you've had time to eat!".

This brought a bright smile of realization and memory to Ringo's face. Suddenly, he was standing outside the train station on a chilly March morning once again, but he felt warm.

"Right then. So... Allons-y?", he said, motioning them towards the door.

"Who's Al?", asked George cleverly.

The Doctor threw back his head and laughed heartily.

"It's French for 'let's go',", filled Donna.

"He's an active fellow, Al?".

Donna rolled her eyes playfully.

They trailed right out the door, and the flabbergasted receptionist sitting at his desk who was watching the Doctor and Donna leave in astonishment was the farthest thing from their mind. When he started to stammer, it was too late. They were out the door.

The Doctor led them all the way to the TARDIS parked in the alley.

"We'll get right out on the trail of your instrument, George, don't worry,", assured the Doctor. "But first, she needs a little maintainance before she flies again.".

The boys gawped in horror when they saw the blackened bottom of the TARDIS and the paint peeling off of it.

"I thought you said she was still blue,", said John, dismayed at the sight.

"She will be. Wait here,", said the Doctor, unlocking the TARDIS and charging in. In less than a minute, he was back out, hefting a stepladder, a few gallons of paint, four large paintbrushes, a roll of tape, and a brown paper bag.

"All right. It'll only take a little bit to get it all done. Plus we'll be building character!", he said enthusiastically, handing the paintbrushes out to the lads. He gave Paul the buckets of paint.

"And calluses,", added Donna softly.

"So, I've got to... hmm, let's see,", he said, taking a paper list out of his pocket (Donna wondered when he ever had time to make one out). "I've got to unscrew the hoses from the shelf, kick on the heat proctectant shields, and then turn up the heat to get rid of the banana oil, and Donna, you help me. Plus, lads, you'll be painting the exterior for me. This paint's a little runny, so I try to paint when the heat is on inside. Hots it up a bit on the outside, and makes the paint dry faster somehow. I dunno how, I guess it kind of bakes it. When it dries in the vortex blast, it freezes it, and it gives it a rather tacky glazed look.".

"Don't you just let her set to dry?", asked Paul.

"Nope. I can't wait for that. Takes ages. So, anyhow, paint it thick and even. I don't want to see any clumps, blobs or smears! Plus, put this over the window rims,", he said, handing Ringo the roll of tape. "Makes for nice crisp lines. And repaint the windows with this,", he said, producing a pint can of white paint and four artist-sized brushes out of nowhere.

The Doctor started to rustle the paper bag that was under his arm. "And as for this, just be very, very, VERY careful with it. I'll tell you what to do with it when you're finished.".

"What is it?", asked John, accepting it.

"It's incredibly rare and irreplacable and a gift from a dear friend,", said the Doctor starting back into the TARDIS with Donna.

"Oh, by the way,", said the Doctor, turning back to the boys. "If any of the windows start to make a lurching sound, stand clear. Sometimes the temperature gets the glass a bit... hot.".

The Doctor was about to close the door on them when Paul called to him.

"But don't you want us to scrape off the old paint or something?".

"No, the TARDIS will take care of that. New paint dissolves the old under it, if there is any left.".

And with that, the boys were standing alone outside the TARDIS, paint buckets and brushes in hand.

"All right lads, there's a side for each of us,", said John, assuming the lead.

"I call the top!", called George, balancing the ladder against the side.

Paul started opening the cans while John inspected the label of one.

"Hmm,", he studied. "'Norwegian Blue'...".

Soon, all the boys were working diligently, trying their very best to not leave any clumps, blobs, or smears. Ringo was working on the right side, Paul on the left, and John on the front. George was sitting on the top, painting carefully all the angles and corners.

They were working for about an hour, laboring to eliminate all the inevitable little mistakes, when Donna came out the door. She had changed her clothes back into her 21st century, everyday things.

When she opened the door, she accidently rather caused John to create an enormous smear right near the door handle.

"Oi!", he shouted.

"Oi yourself!", she returned, not knowing what she'd done.

He didn't say anymore, just grumbled a little and started to try to smooth the huge glob over the wood.

"So how goes it, boys?".

"Trying to keep it from settling too much in these crevices is a real drag,", said George, still trying to get the top perfect.

"Well, the Doctor just turned on the automatic heat cleaner, so it should get it dry pretty fast.".

Ringo had turned out to be a speed-painter, and had completed two sides and the entire bottom rim before anyone else could get to them, and now was peeling off the masking tape to touch up the window edges.

"John, stop faffing about with that smear and help me finish up the windows!", said Ringo to John, who was still fussing helplessly over the smear that Donna had inadvertantly created.

"Well, I can't get it smoothed out, son! I'd like to see you try and fix it...".

Then, with a single swipe, Ringo had the blob masked with another thin layer of paint like it was never even there.

John just gave him a rather comical grimace, and Ringo smiled with satisfaction.

Donna had taken up a small paintbrush and was touching up with white around the windows, and soon between all of them, they had the whole thing done. In another moment, they all watched as the paint just seemed to, well, bake on, as the Doctor had said.

"So it really does bake on. How does it do that?", asked Ringo, looking over at Donna.

"Don't look at me, drum-boy.".

George hopped down from on top of the TARDIS just as the Doctor came out.

"Done then, lads?", he asked.

"Yes!", said all the boys together, who were rather proud of their job. She was looking as blue as ever.

"Even the bottom?".

They all stared blankly.

The Doctor laughed. "I'm joshing you. Good job, lads! Really good job!", he said, looking over his craft.

George started to pick up the ladder.

"Not yet!", said the Doctor. "What did you do with the sack?".

Paul produced it from his trouser pocket and handed it to the Doctor. The Doctor carefully unfolded the crumpled paper and reached inside the sack. All were curious to see what was inside the parcel that was so important to the Doctor (though Paul had already made a private guess to himself, feeling the shape in his pocket).

Then the Doctor brought his hand back out, and he was holding it - a lightbulb.

"All this fuss over a bloody lightbulb,", said Donna.

"If Thomas was here he would give you a rap right across the mouth, Donna Noble!", scolded the Doctor.

"Thomas? Who the hell is Thomas?", demanded Donna, not liking the sound of the chap already.

"Oh, he's an old friend. He likes to tinker around with things, this and that. Anyhow, this is a leftover from when he was working at the Morgan residence in New York. He didn't expect to come out ahead, but he had about a dozen lightbulbs leftover, and he gave them to me after I helped him sort out some wire routing problems.".

"Thomas Edison?", asked George, putting the puzzle pieces together.

"That's the chap, yeah,", said the Doctor.

Donna's eyes lit up and stared at the lightbulb the Doctor was holding.

"You mean you use those? They should be in a bloody museum!".

"Oh, sure. He wanted me to use them. They're all I use on top,", said the Doctor, pointing to the lamp on top of the box. "Every new-fangled bulb blows up in the vortex.".

The Doctor climbed the ladder, flipped up the light housing on the lamp, and popped out the old lightbulb and screwed the new one in.

"Now! We're ready to go. Break fluid is A-okay, the insides of everything should be cooling down by now, paint's dry, impact absorber is duct-taped, everybody's ready: and we're off!", said the Doctor, hopping back into the TARDIS with a flourish of his trenchcoat.

The boys and Donna hopped back into the TARDIS, but none but Donna were really prepared for it once again.

Each Beatle looked around with renewed awe, all looking above their heads at the high ceilings and every quirky detail. John was so engrossed that he staggered backwards and bumped into the railing.

"I don't know if I could ever get used to this,", said George, looking around with joy in his eyes.

Donna smiled.

"Welcome back, lads! The TARDIS has missed you,", the Doctor said, as the TARDIS made a 'thwong' noise, agreeing with him.

"And we've missed the TARDIS,", agreed Paul.

"All right, boys,", said the Doctor, whipping out a notebook and pen. "Let's get the facts.". The Doctor attempted to go on, but George whisked the notebook and pen out of the Doctor's hands and started to interview Paul, saying in his best policeman-imitation tone, "Just the facts, please, ma'am". They all laughed, and George gave the Doctor back his pen and paper.

The Doctor continuted,"John; list and describe the extra-terrestrial beings that you have been bothered by in the past several months. We'll go around to all of you that way.".

"Well, there was the swine,", he stammered.

"Yeah...", said the Doctor, writing.

"Right, and the metal man.".

"Describe the metal man.".

"Well... 'E was a man. And he was metal.".

"Was it a Cyberman?", asked Paul, remembering well his experience with that unsavoury race.

"I dunno, what do they look like?".

"They-", started the Doctor, but Paul cut in.

"They look like really tall, metal men, basically. They have bars round their faces, and they have black gaps in their faces for eyes, with little notches cut out of one edge that look a little like teardrops. They also have a panel in the middle of their chest.".

While Paul had been explaining, John had been sketching in the Doctor's notebook. He finished at the same time as Paul stopped talking, and he faced his drawing around to the others. He had drawn exactly what Paul was describing.

Paul's stomach turned.

"That's them,", he said.

"Okay. That's definitely a Cyber,", said the Doctor, with a tone a dread in his voice. He moved on quickly. "Paul?".

"Well, mine was the Grim Reaper.".

"Yeah, but give me more. Was he short? Was he tall? What color was the robe? How did he walk?", said the Doctor, chewing the edge of his pen.

"Well, same height as anyone, I guess,", said Paul. "He was rather bent over, and I think the robe was red.".

"Oh, even better,", said the Doctor sarcastically. It was clear a thought had just occurred to him.

"What?", said Donna.

"It's not pretty. A Headless Monk is never pretty.".

Everyone fell silent and looked at the Doctor, waiting for an explanation.

"You don't want to know,", he said, replying to their expressions. "Ringo?".

"Well, the Ood.".

"Yes, anything else?".

"Well,", said Ringo, searching the floor. "There was something else.".

"Oh, not the marshmellow man again, Ring!", cried John, covering his face, laughing.

"I think it's important,", said Ringo indignantly as his bandmates cackled uncontrollably. He then turned to the Doctor. "There was a little man, or something, that I found one day inside my bass drum while we were on tour. He was about the size of a loaf of bread, shaped and colored like a marshmellow with small arms and legs, and one single tooth.".

"An Adipose!", shouted in Donna before she even realized that her mouth had opened.

John and the others stopped laughing immediately.

"You're actually serious?", said John.

"God, yeah! I was there the day they infiltrated the Earth, the little blighters!", cried Donna.

Six eyes blinked simultaneously.

"Crikey. We thought you'd just had too much American food, Ring,", laughed George.

"Well, now you believe me, don't you?!", Ringo cried indignantly.

"Now, George, please list, and be specific,", urged the Doctor.

"All right,", George cleared his throat. "Well, there was the little red man -".

"With spikes on the head?".

"Yes.".

"Vocci, then. Distant relative of the Vinvocci.".

"Okay,", said George, not asking any questions. "And then there was the plastic shop dummy.".

"Oh, not that again, George!", cried Paul.

"It's as relevant as Ringo's marshmellow man, it is!", George defended.

"Well, I was in the men's shop, and decided try some new suedes, a bit like these,", he said, tapping his toes, "And one of the shop mannequins... Well, he moved. I swear, I'm telling you straight, he really did move. I can't really describe how, but he gave me the creeps. And so I went to take a walk round the store to try the boots out, and when I came back, my old pair were gone. And on the feet of the mannequin. I tried to get them back off, but I couldn't, so then I decided to give him a whack to see what he was about, and he grabbed me arm. Just when I thought I was going to get into a tussle with 'im, the salesman came round, thinking 'was trying to demolish his dummy, so he asked me to leave. I just walked home in me socked feet.".

"Intriguing.".

"You mean he's potty,", said Paul.

"No, quite serious. Plastic can be quite alive. It's not uncommon.".

The group just stared at him blankly.

The Doctor leaned against the console for a minute or so, scribbling feverishly.

"So... What are we doing, spaceman?", Donna finally asked.

"Well, it looks to me, fellows, that you have earned your badges as real travelers of time and space!".

"You what?", returned John.

"Well, it's like this,", started the Doctor, freeing his hands for free-motion explanation. "When a person travels in time, it leaves a mark on them. Sort of like, a brand,", he said, motioning all around.

"I know that much. I've never thought of the hours in a day the same way since,", said Paul.

"Well, that's not really it,", continued the Doctor, squinting a little behind his glasses, trying to find words. "When a person travels in time, there are certain elements, unseen particles and things that sort of become part of you. It's very hard to explain, if we don't want to get into the nuclear physics of it all, but anyhow; there are little particles in the air everywhere, but there are special, very special particles in the time vortex. There is nothing like them, and they cannot be simulated or substituted by anything else. A person can only pick them up there. So, that being said, when a person travels in time, he collects these particles, and they never, ever leave you. You can't wash them off, they are always there. They have even been detected still on time travellers who have been dead for several years. So, when a person has these particles stuck to them, which you lads do, they tend to attract... Spacey timey, wibbly wobbly... things.".

"How d'you mean?", asked George.

"Well, it just sort of happens. Once you become part of that larger dimension, that larger, broader sphere of life, you just kind of tend to attract other peoples of that same dimension. Sometimes they seek you out using a scanner or something. Other times it just mere coincidence. But it just has been known to kind of... Happen. Once you have these particles on your being, you tend to become either by apparent coincidence or not-by-chance involved in other temporal-spacio happenings. They usually tend to fall into your lap.".

"So, what you're saying is that we've got these germs on us and they won't wash off, and aliens from outer space can somehow, sense them, or something, and they are somehow, emm -", said Ringo.

"Yes. Unfortunately. And it is usually troublemakers that use the scanners to find preliminary victims.".

"... Victims?", they all echoed.

"Yes. And I'm trying to think...", the Doctor trailed off, scratching his head with his pencil.

"OH!", he shouted, turning back to them. "That is good, Doctor, it's good, it's good as gold,", he said to himself.

"What is it?!", demanded Donna, following him as he started circling the console, setting a destination.

"The CIA!".

"What?!", cried Donna, trying to make sense of nonsense.

"Oh, Doctor, we had enough of them on our last trip! They nearly shot us up, remember?!", retorted George.

"No, no,", said the Doctor. "Not that CIA! I'm talking about the Criminal's Intergalactic Association. Quite similar, when you think about it. Funny, a bit. Also quite unfortunate.".

"What, they openly call themselves criminals?", scoffed Ringo.

"Eh, no. That's what the Time Agents call them. They call themselves the Intergalactic Antiquities and Antpostiquities Dealer's Association.".

"What in God's name is an antpostiquity?", asked John.

"Antiquities; junk from the past. Antpostiquities; junk from the future,", said the Doctor, raising his eyebrows at the group. The boys were going to have to get once again used to gawping in awe.

"They are basically a large network of thieves that steal things from different times and places and then make a huge profit at what they call their 'auctions'. They and their associates sting gullible collectors for millions. Terrible places. Anything illegal in the way of the black market, shady deals; it goes on at these places. The association is quite chaotic, the bosses are usually murdered or otherwise silenced within the first six months of management. Went into one of their hotspots with a Time Agent friend of mine one time when they were trying to bust a few of the big guys in the association. Dreadful.".

"So, what does all this mean for us?", asked Donna.

"It means we have a lead. Peoples employed by the CIA come from all planets, all galaxies, and are all species. They often scan areas for persons carrying the special vortex-particles. They usually do this to try to find new recruits, and sometimes to find someone who has artifacts themselves, so they can take quite a few items from different periods and planets all in one go. But this time was unique for them. They found you boys. And once they found out more about you, they thought that a personal possession of yours would be worth a year's salary.".

"But how can you guess all this, mate?", asked George.

"Well, it's the most logical thing. Stalking by various non-terrestrial beings, leading up to a major theft. It's either that or a Headless Monk has somehow come upon one of your records and been really gone on it to the point of ostricising himself from his order and becoming a counterculture-monk.".

Everyone blinked.

"I'm going with the CIA theory,", said Donna.

"Yeah, thought you might.".

"So you think they have my guitar?", asked George, a fire lighting behind his eyes.

"Maybe. We have some investigating to do first, though. They keep the locations of their auction houses very secret,", said the Doctor.

"So where are we going?", asked Paul noticeably pleased to be asking the question.

"Across the Universe.".

"Nothing's going to change my world,", said Donna spontaneously, followed by an expression of such extreme suppressed satisfaction that it looked as though it might actually damage her face.

The boys looked at Donna with confusion.

The Doctor was giving Donna the silent look of "shut it before you get us all in trouble". She gave him the "you started it" look.

Then he pulled the lever, and they were tumbling through time and space.

 _A/N; Thanks for reading! And PLEASE don't be shy about reviewing!_

 _Peaceandlove people :)_


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N; Heyyy, short chapter. I finally did it! Please enjoy :)_

 _I just wanted to say really quickly that if anyone appreciates this story or my other one, please if you have time, it would be absolutely fab-o if you would review. I need suggestions, like is my style good? Is it bad? Are my sentences too long? Are my characters good, like do I represent the Tenth Doctor accurately? Do I go into too much detail? (Like Tolkien at times. I mean, love the man, but jeez. No one else on (middle-)Earth could go into so much detail describing a field of grass. Sheesh). Haha_

 _Okay, without further ado, Chapter 6._

Once the Doctor had pressed the release lever, the TARDIS had disembarked rather violently, and it didn't get any better after that first initial moment.

Everyone was on the floor or near it, clinging on for dear life to whatever they could find. John was laughing giddily, much as he was the time before. Little had changed, except for the other boys were starting to whoop and holler as well, more confident that they would live through the experience this time.

The riding was incredibly rough, and then turned violent to the point that Donna was screaming, splitting every ear in the place. Though she had good reason. The entire console room was upside down.

Most of them had resorted to sticking their fingers through the grating on the floor and trying to cling to that, or hanging fast to rails as they hung upside down. But Ringo was rather unlucky. The piece of grating that he had come to hang onto was the opening to a storage compartment under the flooring, and it pulled open. He clung with one arm, wailing as he looked into the vaulted ceiling of the TARDIS that now looking like a deep void that was ready for him to fall into. He was being pelted with various odds and ends including the paint cans that the boys had just been using on the exterior. One thing that particularly impressed him was a very old bottle of Coca-Cola that came flying like a torpedo out before bursting with a flourish of brown liquid and broken glass on the ceiling.

"RINGO!", shouted John, trying to reach his arm down (or up) to try to offer a hand.

"AHHHH!,", Ringo simply replied.

"I SHOULD HAVE LET THE BREAK FLUID COOL! THE EQUILIBRIUM PARTICLES RISE TO THE TOP WHEN IT'S HOT, AND IT TURNS THE CABIN UPSIDE DOWN!", shouted the Doctor, cursing to himself.

"YOU THINK?!", Donna screamed in reply. "I HONESTLY HADN'T NOTICED!".

Then, there came a great, terrible, piercing grinding noise, and they all would have liked to cover their ears if their hands had been available. Then, there was a pause, and then the 'vworp'ing could be heard. Then -

*BOOM*.

*EEEEEEEK!*

*BOOM!*

The TARDIS flipped back right-side up all at once.

"OUCH!", cried Ringo. He had just fallen back flat on his face on top of the panel opening that was now slammed firmly shut.

Then, there was a rain of objects, heavy and light, big and small from the ceiling. It's too bad they didn't just go right back into their little compartment rather than litter the entire room.

"OW!", shouted Donna when a rather lengthy book pelted her head.

There were assorted moans of pain among the group as they struggled to their feet. Paul helped Ringo up slowly. The poor drummer was rather dizzy.

Donna got on her feet after the Doctor.

"What. The HE-", she started, directed towards the Doctor.

"Oh, keep your trousers on, Donald! She's a jolly old machine,", interjected John.

"Oh, fine,", resigned Donna, sighing in a way that sounded rather more like a snarl.

"I suppose it was rather fun,", added Donna, realizing she was being rather a grouch.

"That's the spirit, Donnie!", replied John.

"Oi! Liverpuddle!", she said, stepping up into his face. "My name's Donna. Donn-uh. Got it, guitar man?".

"Oh, sir yes sir, of course, sir, Donnie, sir.".

"Donna!", she shouted in his face, rather like a drill-sergeant.

"Yes, sir, of course, sir.".

"Stop callin' me 'sir'!".

"Yes sir.".

"DOCTOR!", she screamed, exasperated, turning to the Doctor. The boys behind her were nearly doubling over in laughter.

"Do something about him!", she screeched.

"What do you want me to do?", giggled the Doctor, not able to contain his amusement.

Steam rolled out of Donna's ears.

"Well, if you won't...", she said, picking up a rolled newspaper off the floor that had fallen from the storage compartment.

She proceeded to chase John around the room, slapping him a few times with the newspaper before starting to throw random objects at him, missing him every time. Everyone was laughing now (including Donna) as John nimbly dodged every object thrown at him. The other boys were starting to join in the game, picking up books and anything they could find to throw at the rhythm guitarist until the Doctor realized what a dreadful mess they were making of his time machine.

"'Ey, 'ey, 'ey, cease fire, fellows!", he finally intervened, stepping between the firing squad and John. "Look at the mess!", he exclaimed, starting to pick up the array of objects off the floor.

"Oh, no,", said George. "We're in trouble now.".

"Donna started it!", said Ringo and pointed over at the redhead, dropping the motorbike helmet he was just preparing to throw. Paul did the same, though he dropped a roll of duct tape.

"Whad'you gonna do, schoolmaster? Give us a spankin'?", said John to the Doctor, still not ready to stop acting the goat.

"Don't push your luck, son,", said the Doctor, pulling a pretty convincing thick Liverpudlian accent.

"Not bad,", said Paul.

"Thank you,", said the Doctor as he continued to tidy.

George was the first to lend a hand. The first thing lying on the floor that his hand met was a square piece of cardboard.

"What's this?", he said, looking at it. It was an album cover with seams splitting. On the front it read "OUT OF OUR HEADS - THE ROLLING STONES".

"Hey, 'ey, 'ey!", he said, jeering the Doctor, showing him the album cover and giving him a fake look of betrayal.

"Now that was a gift!", the Doctor defended, a smile pulling at one side of his mouth.

"From who?", said John, interrogating as he picked up the album cover.

"Oh, I don't really remember...".

"Have you been going on adventures with Mick behind our backs or something?", Ringo demanded.

"No, no! I swear, I'm innocent!,", said the Doctor honestly defending himself. The boys laughed and moved on.

The others dutifully started to clean up the mess they had created. Except for Paul.

He had walked to the doors after seeing that six was a rather excessive number to be cleaning such a small mess, so he decided to take a peek outside. And he got an eyefull.

 _A/N; Thanks sooo much for reading and again it would mean the world to me if I could get some feedback on this story or on my finished one! I published here in the first place so maybe other people could share their opinions of my writing, so please do! It would make my day!_

 _"So go ahead, punk. Make my day."_

 _Sorry. Had to._


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N; Hello again, people. Hope you've had a lovely week. I would just like to take a quick moment to thank Dara Isethia for her review of the previous chapter. Really gave me the push I needed to get excited about this story again, so thanks loads Dara!_

"Umm, Doctor...", said Paul, still gawping at what was outside.

"Yeah?", said the Doctor, still involved in determining whether George had broken his timey-wimey detector when he accidentally stepped on it while it was lying on the floor.

"Where are we?", he breathed, still not able to bring himself to close the door and stop staring outside.

The Doctor then turned to him and proceeded to make an assortment of sounds that sounded like sneezes, coughs, gags, and gutteral gurgling all happening at once.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared.

"Do you need a cuppa tea, mate? Perhaps some penicillin?", said Ringo.

"I don't, but that might be what the bloke needed when he named this city,", said the Doctor, snapping a few parts back into place on his plastic machine.

Everyone waited for more information, which they knew was inevitably coming.

"Oh, we're on the planet Chhhhhhhrglj in case anybody's curious. Home planet of the Vinvocci. Rather odd native language they have. They can't even speak it that well themselves. They all have naturally very dry mouths and throats, you see, so it's hard for them to make the sound you just heard me making. It's no wonder their species has the highest percentage of fluid consumption per day compared to all others in the galaxy. They've got to wet their whistle at least twice every two minutes to be able to speak their own language, you see. They like to challenge themselves. The galaxy's leaders in mathematics for fifteen-hundred years running. Funny, all Vinvocci are inherently dyslexic. Rather sad, really. But they more than make up for it. Until they started branching out into genetic mutations, and then they tried to correct their dyslexia, and then, having a tendency to do a lot of things what we think of as backwards, they rather did the procedure backwards and worstened their dyslexia. Then not only did they do things backwards, but also upside down. They fell to Number 2 in mathematics after that. Their upside-down logarithms rather nipped them in the bud in the Intergalactic Mathematics Bee. Came in second to a rather ingenius chap...", rambled the Doctor.

"Who was that?".

"Oh, me. But that doesn't matter. Lads, always remember one thing,", he said, looking very serious. Everyone turned towards him.

"Logarithms. Always remember logarithms.".

"I sort of remember from school - but what's a logarithm? A drum made of logs?", asked Ringo, giggling.

"The precise definition of a logarithm - 'A quantity representing the power to which a fixed number must be raised to produce a given number',", the Doctor paused. "Also known as our code-word for danger. And I suspect we'll have to use it more than once before we get you lads home.".

"Got it,", said John, winking and giving a thumbs up. "Now what was that? Lythmrogs?" Rhythm-gogs?".

The Doctor just gave him the 'Oh, you!' look, and with that, picked up his coat and started out the door.

"Now remember,", he said, turning back to the group that had piled up behind him. "Follow me closely. Don't fall behind. Donna, you know what to do. Lads, don't touch anything, don't call any of them cacti, or comment on their complexion, or their language, or... Well, best not say anything unless I tell you to. I'll handle this. I've got some friends here that might be able to help us.".

"Righto, gov,", said George, trying to pull a Donna accent, which earned a smug smirk from the redhead.

"Lead on,", added Paul.

The Doctor led them out, and Donna tried to catch her breath. They were in a massive city that extended as far as they eye could see, silver bullet-shaped sky-scrapers extended up into the night sky all the way around them. The stars looked especially close (but not Poosh-close). And this planet was a bit queer. The surface, instead of feeling and looking flat but in fact actually being rounded like Earth, actually appeared flat but felt round. It felt different to walk on. Donna instantly felt as if she had just climbed about 6 flights of stairs and she was already exhausted.

She stumbled and nearly fell down. The Doctor caught her.

"It's different, isn't it?", he said.

"Yeah, I'll say,", said Donna, trying to stand up, but she had the sensation that she was leaning backwards.

"Once you get up momentum, it will be like going downhill all the way,", he explained.

They started down the narrow alleyway that they had parked in. It looked flat before them, but it felt like climbing a vertical mountain slope. The four Beatles linked arms and tried to use joint strength to get up the invisible "hill", but George fell down, followed by Paul, and the Doctor had a job before him trying to silence all the giggles.

"Come on, fellas!", he exclaimed, looking at their pitiful state, lying on the pavement laughing uncontrollably.

Once they made it back onto their feet and out of the alley and started up the street, it was, as the Doctor said, like going downhill.

Donna was glad she wasn't wearing heels. She surely would have fallen forward on her face.

"How do they bloody stand this?!", she said, stumbling around, trying to keep her balance.

"Who, the Vinvocci?".

"No, the men in the Moon!", retorted Donna sarcastically.

"Well, the Moon is drastically different, Donna. The men in the Moon have to stay connected to their spaceships so they don't float away into oblivion, so I'm sure they would much prefer this.".

"Pffffff...", went Donna, ignoring him.

They were now walking up a street lined with the high-rise bullet-buildings, and the boys were looking around with wonder. There were dark shadows lurking around the corners, and they seemed to peer at the party inquisitively as they passed by. The Doctor was scribbling something in his notebook and kept looking up at the stars.

"What 'you writing, Doctor?", asked John.

"I'm figuring up the address.".

"Figuring it up?".

"Yes. The Vinvocci like to use quite a complicated system to address their buildings. See, you have to use trigonometric ratios in proportion to the positioning of the stars, and then take it times a few little figures, divided by pi, and you have the address! Presto!".

Ringo looked at him queerly. "You can measure your distance from stars just by looking at them?".

"Oh, creepers, no. I just have the tables memorized. One figure for every star. Got bored one night. It passed the time.".

Ringo's eyes went blank. "But there are millions of stars...?".

"Billions of trillions actually, if you count all of them everywhere, not just in your galaxy.".

"And you...?".

"Yep. It was a piece of cake, really. You see, you -", he started to explain.

He was interrupted as they came to their destination. They were in front of a very large bullet-building, and there was a strange, rounded-looking hatch for a door.

"Ah, here we are!", said the Doctor.

"Well, then...", said Donna, looking at the hatch. It had no knob, no release lever, no nothing. "How do we get in?".

"You see, the Vinvocci program their locks systems to change every time someone opens and closes the door. Most of the time you have to feel around for a dent in the crack, here, and out of that comes a little digital lock with a little screen,", he said, pointing to the tightly-shut perimeter of the door. "And then it usually involves some sort of mathematical calculation to unlock the door. They like doing it the hard, way, you see.".

Everyone but the Doctor looked at each other with wide-eyes.

"They like to exercise their minds,", mumbled the Doctor, feeling around. "But these are actually quite inconvenient in the event of an emergency.".

"I can imagine why,", said George.

"Maths to just get from one room to the other? Paul would spend 'is whole life in one room,", said John, teasing. Paul gave a face and punched his friend in the side playfully.

"If it was pub trivia instead of maths we might be in already!", said Ringo.

"Oh, you fellows don't give yourselves enough credit! All those time signatures, and music thingies, you're pretty good at those,", said Donna.

Paul shrugged to himself, agreeing, but still in the back of his mind remembering maths classes in school. He shuddered.

"Oh, bother!", shouted the Doctor after feeling around the entire perimeter at least twice before giving the door a tremendous boot with his sneaker. His face immediately puckered, and he turned and slowly hopped around the pavement on one foot in pain.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow,", he hopped around, cringing. The boys just watched him. "Never use force, boys. You just end up embarrassing yourself...".

Donna decided to give it a try. She only looked around the door for about ten seconds before huffing a sigh.

"OI! Open Sesame!".

Nothing happened.

Donna knocked "shave-and-a-haircut" twice with no answer.

Donna whistled a few times. "Oi! Anybody home in there?!".

Donna stomped her feet a few times and turned around in a circle on the pavement. She even did a little jig.

"Oi, space-Gandalf. You got any opening-spells for doors?", she said to the Doctor.

"No...", said the Doctor, dismayed. Then a light came into his eyes. "OH, Doctor, that's good,", he said, hopping up.

"What is it?".

"Well, sometimes, the Vinvocci require a certain sound to be made before the door. This is the Vinvocci Embassy, so it is probably higher security. There is a certain sound that can typically only come from a Vinvocci throat. Vinvocci's have duplicated vocal chords all the way up their larynx, so they can actually harmonize with themselves. When they use all of them, however, their muscles tend to tense quite a bit. This produces a very high-pitched sound. So...", he stopped, looking over at the boys. "OOOO...", he sang silently.

They looked back at him for a second before they realized what he meant. Then they all blushed a little and looked down at the pavement.

"Okay, what key?", resigned Paul.

"A Major'll do. We'll need all of you together.".

"High-pitched? No matter. Only dogs can hear Paul sing when he's nervous,", said Ringo, giggling.

"'Ey, I've got range, mate!", said Paul.

"So you have,", agreed Ringo.

"All right, friends,", said the Doctor, calling them to action. "2, 3, 4...".

*OOOOOO*

Nothing happened.

"Once more, louder,", said the Doctor.

*OOOOOO*

This time was louder, but still nothing happened.

"Once more.".

This time all the boys took a deep breath, and this time Ringo even tried (who had quite a low singing voice normally).

*Beep*.

A little electronic lock popped out of the side of the door.

"Hey, fellows, not bad!", cried the Doctor. The boys were a little embarrassed but pleased.

"Let's see,", he mumbled, looking at the tiny screen, squinting through his glasses.

"Oh, easy one,", he said, mumbling to himself. He whipped out his notepad and started scribbling at lightning speed, using up several sheets and nearly chewing his lip raw. Then he punched in a little figure into the lock, and the door opened with a pleasant little *beep beep*.

The door didn't really open, it sort of popped up with a woosh that sounded a bit like a walk-in icebox opening up.

The Doctor led them through a broad hall, very plain, everything painted white. There were no windows, but there were drapes hanging limply on the walls large enough to be draped over Donna's entire block at home. The ceilings were at least seventy feet high.

There were Vinvocci here and there, talking, some wearing lab coats, a few wearing what looked like rubbish bin liners. But one thing Donna noticed immediately; they all had green, spiny skin. She tried not to stare, but they looked almost like cactuses (or cacti), except they were a lighter green.

Donna tried to look like she knew exactly where she was and what she was supposed to be doing, though she had no idea. She stuck close to the Doctor.

"Just remember. A cactus is a bit of vegetation that grows in Southwestern America, able to survive splendidly with little water,", the Doctor reminded discreetly.

"Yeah,", said John, looking antsily at the nearest Vinvocci who was slurping some pink liquid that looked a bit Pepto Bismal-ish.

They marched on to what seemed to be a bit like a glass lift.

"In we go,", said the Doctor, and everyone piled in. It was glass in the front, and there was a rounded sofa in the back of the large compartment.

The lift was unusually slow.

"I think I might take a nap if you gents don't mind,", said Donna, yawning and starting to relax back against the sofa, watching as they lifted an inch a minute off the ground.

"What's the point of such a slow lift? We could have gone up and down the stairs twice by now,", said George, looking at his watch (which was still ticking away, showing what time it would have been if he were still in London).

Paul looked over at him, raising his own watch, totally shattered as he had just now noticed, and gave his friend a look.

"Swiss, this,", said George, tapping his watch with satisfaction.

"Chinese, that,", said John, snickering a little, pointing at Paul's watch.

"The vortex seems to overwhelm some clockwork. I received a koo-koo once from Wilhelm the First. I just got it hung up and then, first trip to Jupiter and it actually blew to smithereens all over my clock room,", commented the Doctor, satisfied to make small talk as they still weren't even lifted far enough up to see the second level through the glass.

"My mum bought me a watch once. I traded it for a dog,", said Ringo, staring out into the white room still in front of them.

"What kind of dog?", asked Donna.

"Oh, I dunno. A tail, ears, fur, three legs, one eye. He ran back to his owner again the next day. Lost the dog, lost the watch,", said Ringo soberly.

"That's life in the big city,", said Donna, pulling a New York accent. Ringo nodded, a few of them looked at her inquisitively.

"Sorry. I watch a lot of American movies.".

They all stared out at the white room still in front of them.

"Doctor, any way we can...?", said John, motioning up with his hands.

The Doctor nodded coyly, obviously sharing John's thoughts.

"Hold on,", he said shortly before pointing his screwdriver up in the air and giving it a quick bleep.

Then they flew.

Everything was a blur then, and they seemed to be increasing speed at every second. They had to be going at least 100 miles per hour.

John was laughing. Paul was clinging to the sofa at the back of the lift, burying his face. If he watched, he felt he would not be able to hold down his food. Ringo was staring with wide eyes, screaming internally. George was yelling. Donna was screaming. The Doctor was enjoying himself. All of them were eventually forced by the momentum either partially onto the sofa or flat on the floor.

All this until they reached the top floor.

*CRASH!*

Donna covered her head. Paul was paralyzed, clinging to the sofa. John stopped laughing, George fell off the sofa, and Ringo swore. The Doctor let out a short yell.

They had impacted against the top of the elevator shaft rather hard. The glass shattered and sprayed all over the carpet on the floor they had just arrived on. The lift itself sort of got smashed down into an accordion shape. They were all too shocked to even notice the small band of quite irate Vinvocci standing just beyond the perimeter of broken glass, hands on their hips.

As soon as they were sure that nothing else was going to happen, the Doctor gingerly stepped out across the broken glass and up to the Vinvocci.

"Good morning,", he said to one of them, trying to smile more than the Vinvocci was scowling.

The others started to get up off of the floor of the lift, which was still vibrating from the impact. Ringo was still trying to pry Paul's iron grip off the sofa and reassure him that they weren't moving anymore when George and John were picking their way gingerly across the snow of broken glass.

The Doctor knew he had some explaining to do.

"Well, if that ain't negative vibrations, I don't know what the he-", laughed Donna as she stepped over the broken glass, though the expressions of the Vinvocci quickly shut her up. Her face was immediately wiped to a blank slate as she looked at the embodiment of a cactus ticked off.

"Um, hi,", she said, trying to look polite.

The others lined up beside her and tried to plaster on smiles to match Donna's.

The Doctor was starting to explain something to the Vinvocci who seemed to be in charge, and he sounded like he had some kind of extremely severe virus as he gurgled and wheezed. He kept sipping something from a cup that he was holding so that he could keep speaking.

Donna silently wondered to herself why the TARDIS translator wasn't working like it should, but she decided not to ask.

The Doctor's speech eventually started to sound more friendly, and the Vinvocci stopped scowling. The Vinvocci started to walk away from the group, across the room and through the door on the other side.

"Doctor, what's going on?", Donna whispered.

"Oh, sorry, I never explained, did I?", said the Doctor, laughing. "Well, you see, the Vinvocci keep tabs on the CIA quite closely. The Time Agents, the Judoon and others pay them heavily to use their incredible filing and organizing capabilities to keep track of the happenings. They're searching the records.".

"Are they mad about the lift?", she asked.

"Yes. Very.".

"Did you offer to pay for it?".

"Uh, ya. Thanks,", said the Doctor indignantly.

"That's good. Who's going to pay for it?", said Donna, knowing that the Doctor never had any money.

The Doctor suddenly went white.

"Ringo, take off your coat.".

"What?", they all echoed.

"Nobody has any money. Ringo, we're giving them your coat.".

"Why?", said Ringo helplessly as the Doctor wrastled the jacket off of his back.

"They can use it as a decoy for the CIA, since you are now subjects of interest to the thieves. The Time Agents will pay the Vinvocci more for this than the worth of the lift itself,", said the Doctor, dusting off the coat.

"That was new last week,", said Ringo, pouting a bit.

Ringo was now a bit cross, a bit shocked, and a bit cold.

"Sorry lads. I would give them my own but nobody cares about my clothes.".

"Oh, come on, Doctor. You're a traveler of both time and space, one of a kind. You're bound to have a few screamies of your own,", laughed John.

"No, actually,", said the Doctor thoughtfully. He turned to Donna. "Donna, why don't I have any screamies?".

"Because you're a 900-year-old hobo who travels around and sleeps in a box.".

Just then, the Vinvocci reappeared from behind the door. He walked up to the group and handed the Doctor some papers with what looked like chicken scratches all over them.

"Ah hah,", said the Doctor, nodding in understanding as he seemed to read the strange marks.

"What does it say, Doctor?", Donna asked.

The Doctor raised his hand, bidding her to wait a moment.

"Skjylenbgplt. Ech~grlrk?", said to the Doctor to the Vinvocci.

"Gwyhc. Blirslqienchh utgcjchrq,", the Vinvocci replied, sipping from a cup.

The Vinvocci took the paper back, and carried it over to... A copy machine. It was an unusually common sight to see in this place.

Donna watched silently as the Vinvocci started to run off a copy of the document. It scanned with no problem, but in mid-print, the paper started to jam. The Vinvocci made grumbling sounds. He started to gently pull on the paper, trying to pull it on out, but it wouldn't come. He struggled for some seconds.

Donna stepped up beside him, hoping it would not be seen as contemptible to do so.

"Allow me?", she said, raising a hand towards the copy machine.

The Vinvocci at first looked embarrassed, then resigned.

Donna looked over the machine. It was actually a similar model to the one on the fifteenth floor of the bank in the City where she had been working a few months before. That thing had given her fits. But she had learned to give it worse when her supervisor wasn't looking.

She gave it another brief look over. Then she gave it a boot on the lower left-hand side, an elbow on top of the scanner, followed by a quick yank of the paper-catcher in unison with a well-timed slap on top of the paper shaft.

The copier coughed and sputtered before finishing printing the document.

Donna stood back with satisfaction.

The Vinvocci stared in wonder.

"I'm a temp. You see all kinds of those things,", said Donna.

The Vinvocci handed her the document and she passed it to the Doctor.

"Yliwzxchrchhhplllhsfljdikfm,", said the Doctor.

The Vinvocci nodded.

The group started to move to the elevator. From behind them, they heard a long and pointed *slurrrp* of a beverage.

"Oh, sorry,", said the Doctor. He handed over Ringo's jacket.

The Vinvocci at first looked confused, but after the Doctor mumbled some more things to him in his language and nodded towards the boys. Then the Vinvocci smiled in understanding. The Doctor flashed a last smile, and he prodded his group on and into the elevator. They stooped and squeezed into the accordion-shaped lift, and they all ended up sitting on the floor (a Vinvocci had swept up the glass while they had been conversing with the Vinvocci who had given them the document). There wasn't much headroom anymore in there.

"So what was all that about?", George finally asked when the Doctor made no effort to explain. He only studied the document.

"Oh, sorry,", said the Doctor, called from his daydream. "Gentlemen, we have a lead.".

 _A/N; Thanks ever so much for reading and I hope you all have a nice week. And if it's as hot where you are as it is here, I wish you air conditioning and ice cream! Peace, love, and don't forget, I update on Thursdays (sometimes Fridays if I forget), so check back next week for the next chapter! :)_


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N; Hello again lovely readers :) Here's another chapter, and I hope you like it. (I really like this one. It was a lot of fun to write)_

Despite the begging of the rest of his party, the Doctor would not tell what he had just found out until they were back in the TARDIS. They were about to go mad with curiosity by the time that the blue doors were closed safely behind them.

"So what's going on, Doctor? You've got to tell us!", demanded Donna.

"Okay. I can talk now,", said the Doctor. "Can't talk freely about such things in public. Not good ethics,", he said, pulling the paper out of his inside coat pocket.

"Oh, shut up with your ethics! I want to know what it says!", said Donna.

"All right, all right!", the Doctor said above the rising clamor of appealing voices.

"They couldn't give me their records involving staffing in the CIA. They said that it was highly illegal for me to see it, but I really have a feeling that they are still sore about the mathematics bee...", mumbled the Doctor.

"So what's that then?", asked George, pointing to the paper in the Doctor's hands.

"I'm getting to that. So what I mean is they couldn't give me any information to shed any light on John's Pigman or Ringo's Adipose being associated with the CIA,", continued the Doctor.

"But!", he said, responding to the frustrated expressions of the boys.

"But, they did offer some information that could put us in touch with an agent of the association that might be able to tell us where the CIA's current auction house is located. And that may be a tremendous help.".

"So who is this 'agent'? 007?", Paul asked cleverly.

"No, but he does have a license to kill,", said the Doctor coyly.

The boys laughed, but their laughter settled a little when they noticed that the Doctor's expression wasn't joking.

"You're joking?", asked Ringo.

"No.".

*THWONG*

The TARDIS was taking off.

Everyone automatically grabbed for the nearest stable object, but there wasn't much need. They didn't turn upside down this time.

After they landed (which was less than a minute), Paul said, "Well. That was... Tame.".

"Equilibrium particles have settled,", said the Doctor.

He had grown noticeably more sober since he had been handed the paper.

After they were parked, the Doctor started escorting them all to the doors.

"Now, fellows,", he started. "This is a rough town. It's vital that you look like you know exactly where you are and what you are doing. So just follow my lead, and play your part. And you'll need to carry these,", he said, handing them yellow somethings.

Donna looked down at the one in George's hand. It was a water pistol. A bloody water pistol. With black duct tape wrapped around the back.

"A water gun?", said George, a smile pulling at his mouth.

"It's going to help.".

"Okay,", said George, knowing to take the Doctor's word for it.

"And these you'll need,", said the Doctor, pulling leather holsters out of nowhere.

"I haven't played this game in a long time,", laughed John with levity.

George put the pistol in the holster and clipped it on his belt.

He stood back from the group, separated his legs, looked down at the floor, and put a hand on the imaginary brim of his cowboy hat. Paul mirrored him.

There was a moment of silence.

"Draw!", shouted Ringo.

George whipped his gun out. Paul did the same, but fumbled, dropping his gun.

"Bang bang!", exclaimed George, pulling the trigger. But nothing happened.

Paul clutched his chest and in a dramatic twirling flourish fell to the floor.

"Bloody hell, they don't even have any water in them!", John nearly died laughing.

"Baby Face McCartney, shot down by the Fastest Gun in the West, Georgio del Toro ,", Donna proclaimed.

"Baby Faced?!", shouted Baby Face's corpse indignantly, sitting up.

"Oi, rigor mortis is supposed to be setting in!", Donna shouted, and they all giggled.

"Do I look foreign?", laughed George, putting his water gun back in its holster awkwardly.

"With a tan, maybe slightly Italian.".

George laughed. "If I ever get out of the recording studio, AND England, maybe someday I'll get a tan... And to be Italian, I'd have to borrow Ringo's nose!".

Ringo scowled comically and gave George a shove.

"Good dress rehearsal, boys. Now are you ready for the real thing?", said the Doctor.

They were all confused for a second before the Doctor cast open the doors, heat started boiling into the TARDIS, not to mention the golden sand sifting in on the floor.

"You're not serious?", said George for about the fifth time as the Doctor led them across the sandy desert, Stetson on his head.

"Yup. Serious. Old West, 19th century America, cowboys, yup. All happening here.".

The group was all in a slight degree of wonder as they staggered across the sand in their Cuban heels (minus Donna, who had opted for flats and was regretting it as rocks stabbed the bottoms of her feet through the thin soles).

There was nothing to be seen but desert for miles. They seemed to be blundering aimlessly across the burning sand.

"So where is this town?", Donna eventually asked.

"Well, I had to park a bit out of the way. You know, blue box out of no where containing British people from the future combined with 19th century Americans with guns. Not a good mixture.".

"Yeah, but... Is it anywhere within a 50 mile radius? Cause I'm not seeing anything,", said Donna, having a look all around.

"You'll see it,", the Doctor simply said.

They walked some more, and some more. And it started getting really, really, really... Hot.

"I might get that tan yet,", said George, sweat wetting his bangs. "Or a sunburn...", he added.

"This is familiar!", exclaimed John as he took off his jacket and loosened his tie as sweat dripped down his face and neck.

"Though I don't think we could pick Donna up without getting a great slap in the face,", laughed Ringo, slinging his jacket over his shoulder.

This resulted in resounding laughter from the others. All except Donna, who had no idea what they were talking about.

"You what?", she asked.

"Oh, reference to our last trip,", said the Doctor.

They continued along their trek, with the Doctor and Donna in the lead. Ahead in the distance, Donna thought she could see the emerging figures of rocks. Big rocks. Big, red rocks. And when she thought 'big', she meant big. Like mountain big.

"How did I not notice those before?", she asked, looking in confusion between the rocks and the others.

"The desert plays tricks on the untrained eye,", said the Doctor elusively.

"This is like a bloody John Wayne picture,", said Paul.

Then, inspired by Paul's comment, the boys engaged in horseplay and shoutings of 'bang bang!', kicking up quite a lot of sand in the scuffle. The boys were in fact not boys; they were grown men, but they had so little time at all to themselves or for anything but work, so when they had the chance, they enjoyed being children. And The Doctor was proud to give them that time and to engage in the fun. They were all laughing at Ringo's (actually quite good) American accent when the Doctor discreetly slipped something into Donna's hand.

"What's this?", she said, looking down at the little black object, about the size of a matchbox.

"It's my extra screwdriver. If the bluff with the water guns doesn't work, this is security,", said the Doctor. The Beatles couldn't hear anything that was being said as George and Ringo were now play-wrestling and Paul and John were shouting boisterously.

"It doesn't look like a screwdriver!", she said.

"It's not one of mine, but it does the same thing, essentially. A friend gave it to me. I keep it for emergencies.".

"How can this be used as a weapon anyway?", Donna whispered while the boys were still occupied.

"It has a special overdrive button. If you hit that, it'll be a bit like the time that I held those two sonics together at Adipose Industries. Remember that?", asked the Doctor, knowing Donna would.

Donna nodded.

"So where are we exactly, anyhow?", John piped up to the Doctor. Donna put the sonic matchbox in her trouser pocket.

"Texas, 1842, sonny,", said Doctor, pulling another accent.

"That it is...", said Paul, wiping his brow.

"What? Texas or sunny?", asked John.

"Sunny, son,", said Paul.

"Yes, the sun is very... Sunny,", said John.

Donna enjoyed their company. Their whimsical, amusing company.

"There, ahead!", said the Doctor, pointing.

At first no one saw anything, blinded by the sunny sun. Then, from behind a rock emerged a small town. A settlement, more like, a strip of well-trodden sand leading up to it.

"Welcome to Thirsterren, Texas, fellows.".

"That's an odd name. Why's is called that?", asked Donna.

"Ah, human curiosity,", sighed the Doctor, trodding on through the sand. "Ask someone once we get in town,", he said.

At length, they were approaching the gates of the town (which consisted of two cleaved forked branches supporting one big log stretching between them on top). Donna couldn't help but wonder where they got the wood for that. They must have hauled the lumber a long, long way, because there was not a single tree in sight.

"Remember the rules fellows,", mumbled the Doctor as he lead them in. They all put their hands on their holsters.

"No, don't do that!", said the Doctor, turning back around and stopping them. "Don't touch your guns unless I tell you to. And don't look so,", said the Doctor, looking them over. He was at a loss for words as he looked over their pale complexions and their timid posture. "English!", he completed in exasperation.

"Sorry,", said John, more than a little indignant.

Donna knew that the Doctor rarely got this nervous. It must really be a rough town.

It was a what anyone would think of as an Old West town - One main street with buildings on both sides, roofed porches on each, horses tied up to hitching posts.

Donna felt like she was in a film as she followed the Doctor down the street. The boys were gawping behind her, murmuring among themselves.

After walking for a minute or so and not seeing a single living soul, Donna started to wonder if there was anyone here at all. Then she noticed an older-looking woman sweeping the porch of a building with a sign swinging above it, reading "General Store".

The Doctor saw her too. He approached her.

At first, the woman looked up and noticed the party. She only observed them for a second before she dropped her broom and started rushing inside.

"Wait! I just want to talk to you!", said the Doctor, but she slammed the door behind her. In a second more, there was the steel barrel of a rifle sticking out of a hole in the boarded-up window.

"What do ya want?!", was her muffled demand. "Are you the gov'ment?!".

"No, ma'am, we're not the government! We just want to ask you something! We mean no harm, ma'am!", said the Doctor.

"Well ask away, and then git!".

"We just want to know where we may find Gerard Maxwell, ma'am. Have you heard of Gerard Maxwell?".

Donna thought she heard a little gasp, and then a prolonged silence.

"Ma'am?", said the Doctor.

"I don't want no trouble! Now get yer bee-hinds on down the road!", she said in her crackly voice.

"Gerard Maxwell, ma'am?", prodded the Doctor.

*BANG!*

John hopped to the side as a bullet collided with the sand only inches from his right pinky toe.

"Oi, that's my foot, ya-", John shouted until Paul covered his mouth.

"Madam, there is no need for gunfire -", started the Doctor, only for a bullet to whizz past Paul's ear.

"Lythm-rogs!", shouted John, as he started hurrying down the street alone.

"Okay, Doctor, see you,", said Paul, starting to walk on, shaking a little in his boots. He hissed into the Doctor ear as he was walking "Let's get the hell out of here.".

The Doctor walked on with the rest of them upon seeing his crew was leaving with or without him.

"Well, what do we do now?", said George. They were all walking down the street in a close little cluster now.

Just then, the Doctor's sensitive ears heard the faint sound of music. As they continued on, it got louder. He stopped, turning his head and listening.

"Here, lads,", he said, leading them further down the street until they came up to a door, above it a sign reading 'Saloon'.

"Ready?", he said to them, prodding them up the steps. It didn't matter if they were ready or not. The Doctor was determined now. And they would find the man they came to find.

The saloon smelled of must and liquor and was quite small.

There was a wooden bar on the right side of the room, men lined up on stools in front of it. There were a few other men scattered here and there playing cards at tables. In the far, dark corner, there was man playing a piano that looked like it had seen much better days. They were all dressed practically alike, in what one would stereotypically imagine as cowboy clothes. Donna tried not to make eye-contact (especially with the man with only one eye sitting down near the end of the bar).

The Doctor went straight up to the bartender, who was looking at him and his friends with skepticism that thickened the already thick air.

"Excuse me, but you wouldn't know where I could find a Gerard Maxwell, do you?".

In an instant, there were at least six pistols drawn and pointed at the party.

All of the Englishmen (and woman) in the room raised their hands defensively.

"We mean no harm,", said the Doctor.

"Who arr ya?", demanded the bartender, who actually wasn't brandishing a weapon (but unknown to the members of the time travelling party, he had his hand resting on a rifle under the bar). "And who arr they?", he asked, waving his filthy cleaning rag at the Beatles.

"'R what arr they?", added the one-eyed man.

"I'm the Doctor, and this is my friend Donna Noble, and this is John Lennon, Ringo Starr, George Harrison, and Paul McCartney. We're looking for a Gerard Maxwell,", the Doctor introduced, remaining calm despite all the weapons aimed at him.

"What's wrong with 'em?", asked a man to their right, looking at the Beatles with slight amusement and also slight disgust.

"Nothing at all, what's wrong with you?", asked John, looking over the rather dirty man with the same expression.

"'Rr you insinyeatin' that there's somethin' wrong with me?", asked the man, tightening his grip on his gun.

"Yeah, why not?", said John, still feeling insulted by the comments made about him.

"That's what I'm askin' you, dammit!", said the man, a shouting tone starting to wind up in his old, gravelly voice.

"Asking me what?", said John, starting to enjoy the game.

"Dammit, Josh, are you gonna let this here little whippersnapper talk to me like this?!", said the man, getting frustrated, snapping at the bartender.

Donna then dared to look at him. He was mustached, and had greasy brown hair. He was wearing a shirt that was dirty (and it was dark, so Donna couldn't tell much about color). He had a shot glass in his left hand and his pistol still in his right.

His latter comment roused up some shoutings from amongst the ranks of the drinkers and card-players present. The piano player started a new song, a slightly peppier one, but it still had plenty of room to speed up to a full-on frenzied brawl-theme. Amidst the chaos, there came a higher voice.

"What is going on, Papa?", said a girl, emerging from a back door that Donna hadn't noticed before. She was rather short, had long blonde hair, and was wearing a rather ragged printed dress. She looked to be about 14 or 15.

Somehow, this voice seemed to rise above the clamor of voices and shut everyone else in the room up.

"Go back to your sewing, Maggie, nothing to see here,", said Josh.

"Who's this?", she said, seeing the strange group that had apparently caused the ruckus.

"Strangers. Now go back to your sewing.".

She ignored her father, looking over the strange group, perplexed, and pleasantly so.

"Aw, but Papa, I haven't seen new folk for 'least six months,", she said, looking over all six new faces, mystified.

"Yer needle's eye'll rust shut if you don't git back to it now, Maggie,", persisted Josh.

"Oh, now Papa, you never let me have any fun. You're a hindr'nce to my yoothful spi'rt!", she exclaimed, frustrated.

"Oh, pipe down, Maggie, and stop yoosin' those big long werds,", said Josh, now turning back to the group.

"Now what ya be wantin' in this town? And where 'you from?", Josh asked.

"We are only looking for Gerard Maxwell, sir. And we'd thank ye kindly if you'd tell us where we could find him,", stepped in Ringo, trying to sound convincingly American. This evoked a few seconds of thought among the Texans present, but it only lasted that - a few seconds. They knew something was wrong with the whole thing.

"You ain't Amer'can. I can tell that, so stop trying to talk like you is. And if you know what's best for ya, ya need forgit the name Gerard Maxwell. Forgit it, and git on down the road!", spat Josh, now becoming a little aggressive. The simple name of 'Maxwell' seemed to spark some forbidden anger among all in the town.

"No, we're not American. You're right, sir,", said the Doctor, trying to humor Josh. "We're Eng-".

The first syllable of the word seemed to be the cause of more than one non-British man in the saloon who had not been brandishing a weapon before to load his gun.

"Dutch!", resolved the Doctor. "Yes, we're Dutch, just in from, um, Amsterdam, ya,", he said. Donna tried to keep from laughing.

"Is that the reason for the uh,", said Josh, waving his rag at the Beatle haircuts.

"Oh, the herr?", piped up George. "Ya.".

The Americans present weren't sure they had ever heard anyone say 'herr' before, but didn't know that it was a Liverpudlian expression, not a Dutch, but the 'Ya' definitely helped to implant the incorrect supposition. Maggie giggled at George's accent, covering her face with her apron.

"Don't laugh at 'im, Maggie, he can't help it,", mumbled a man to the girl from down the bar.

"Let 'er laugh, the girl can't 'elp it,", threw in Paul, the demonstration of his accent sending Maggie into further laughter, which made all the British boys start laughing with her.

Never before had people had so much fun at gunpoint. It almost seemed ridiculous. But, Donna reminded herself, she was with the Beatles.

"So, last call for Gerard Maxwell? Anyone care to answer my question?", said the Doctor, looking round the saloon. All of the patrons looked at the floor, lowering their guns. The pianist returned to a rather tame, soft-spoken rag.

"No takers, all righty,", laughed the Doctor in aggravation. "Well, thanks for the warm welcome,", shot the Doctor as he led his group out of the saloon.

They all went back out into the street, the Doctor now squinting against the setting sun and looking around for another living soul to question about Maxwell.

"Well, that was... fruitful,", said John sarcastically.

"Fruity,", retorted Paul.

"Sure didn't smell like it,", said Donna, glad to get away from the liquor/must smell.

"Well, where to now, Doctor?", asked George.

"I don't... Know,", said the Doctor, pondering thoughtfully, shuffling around in the sandy street.

Just then, they heard something.

*Psst*

"Did you hear something?", said Ringo.

"Yeah,", said Donna.

"What was it?", asked George, listening.

*Psst!*

It came again, this time more emphatically.

They all whirled around in the direction of the noise. It led them into an alley, between the side of the saloon and an abandoned building.

"Hello?", said George, the first one to venture into the little crevice between buildings, the sad light of the setting sun leaking into it.

"Here,", said a voice, and George turned around. Behind him was Maggie.

"Oh. Hello,", he said.

"Howdy, I'm Margaret Pettijohn. But you can call me Maggie,", she said, extending her hand.

"Yes, I believe we've met,", said George, motioning back to the saloon.

"Yeah, oh, that Papa. He's such an old coot,", she said, embarrassed by her father's behavior.

Just then, the others filtered in behind George.

"Oh, howdi-do,", she said politely, smiling at them.

"Hi,", they all echoed.

"Now, I want to get to the point,", she said, her expression turning serious as she crouched in closer to them and started to speak in hushed tones.

"And what's that?", said John, starting to wonder what it is that she wanted.

"I'll make ya'll a little deal,", she whispered.

"And what's that?", said the Doctor, interested but cautious.

"I'll tell you where old Maxwell is, if ya'll 'll do somethin' for me.".

"Yes, anything,", agreed the Doctor. "Where can we find him?".

"Now, you might as well know that you can't go where he is, all of ya together traipsin' up there. He'll never come out. It'll just have to be one or two of ya,", she said. "But! I haven't told ya what I want ya to do for me,", she reminded sternly.

"Well? What is it?", asked Paul.

"Give me a haircut like yours.".

This nearly sent the Beatles into laughter, but they restrained it.

"Now, why would a little lady like you want herr like ours?", asked George.

Maggie giggled. "I like it. And it'll drive Papa loony.".

"You're sure now?", said Donna, looking at Maggie hair, which was so long she could sit on it. "It'll be a big shock to you when it's all over.".

"I need a good shockin'. You're the most exciting thing that's happened here for the past three or four years.".

"All right, then,", agreed Paul.

"You promise that if I tell ya where Maxwell is you'll do it?".

"We promise,", they all said.

"Good.".

"Now tell us where Maxwell is, if you'd please,", said the Doctor.

"Hey, mister, not so fast. Hair first,", she said decidedly.

 _A/N; So here we are, friends. In the Old West. You may ask why I chose to go here, but the idea popped into my head as I sat listening to Beatle records, and hey presto! Here we are. Remember, let me know your thoughts! I love reviews like the 11 loves bowties._

 _Peace, love, and see you next week people! :)_


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N; hello again people. This is a long 'n. I couldn't split this part up. I sincerely hope you all enjoy this :)_

Maggie led them around the back of the building, where there was a horse trough with a horse gently lapping up water as he rested lying down next to the trough.

She produced a pair of rusty shears from her pocket and extended them, expecting Paul to take them.

"Oh, I dunno how to cut herr,", he said. "You'd better let, um, Donna do it,", he said, pushing Donna to take the shears.

"I dunno how to cut hair! I only cut my bangs! I don't know how to cut multiple...", she started to say 'inches', but then she noticed the girl's hair again. "Feet.".

"Ringo, why don't you do it,", said John, pushing Ringo up towards the front of the party. "Your girlfriend cuts herr.".

"That doesn't mean I can bloody cut herr, Lennon,", said Ringo, reluctantly taking the shears from Donna.

"Sure you can,", said John, noticing the now discouraged expression on the face of Maggie.

"Oh,", said Ringo, noticing the now expectant expression on the girl's face directed at him. "Well, I can give it a try, if Donna's up to lending a hand...".

"Hooray!", Maggie said.

"Now what we'll need first is to get this wet,", said Donna, looking at the girl's slightly greasy hair.

"The well's three miles out of town,", said Maggie. "And we can't use none of Papa's liquor. He'd get so mad...".

"No, no, no liquor,", said Donna, giggling a little.

"Hmmm...", said Maggie, looking around for an idea. "Oh!", she exclaimed, her eyes catching on the horse trough.

She rushed up to her horse and starting pulling on his old head, bringing his nose out of the water.

"Get up, Methuselah,", she prodded until he was on his feet, his chestnut coat shining in the evening light.

She bent over the side of the trough and dunked her head in.

Donna gasped a little. There was some moss and scum on the bottom of the trough, but Donna tried to ignore it. It didn't seem to bother Maggie.

Maggie came back up gasping for air, and she sat down in the dirt.

"All right,", said Donna, squatting in the dirt to start running her fingers through Maggie's hair to make it a little more neat. "Ringo, you ready?".

"Yeah,", he said reluctantly.

"Yer name is 'Ringo'?", Maggie asked.

"Yeah, cause of all the rings,", said Ringo, showing her his rings.

She looked with interest.

"You must be rich, mister.".

Ringo laughed.

There were a few moments of preparation before Ringo made the first grand cut. Maggie squeezed her eyes shut.

It was several minutes before Ringo and Donna were done. The others were content to watch the process.

When they were all finished, the girl had as close to a Beatle cut as one could get with only a dull pair of rusted shears. It was actually pretty decent looking.

"All right, all finished,", said Ringo finally.

Maggie hopped up and ran over to the back porch of the tavern. She grabbed a shard of a broken mirror that was stuffed under the stairs and she gave herself a look.

"OH!", she exclaimed, covering her face.

Donna bit her lip, and Ringo's expression weakened a little.

"Sorry, but I told you it would be a shock,", said Donna.

"What do you mean, 'yer sorry'?! It's the most wonderful thing that's ever happened to me!", she screamed.

Ringo then beamed.

"Oh, thank you, Mister Ringo,", she said, running and embracing him. "And you Miss Donna,", she said, turning to Donna and hugging her too.

Ringo was laughing and Donna was smiling fondly.

"You'll be wanting to trim that every once in a while, otherwise it'll be in your eyes,", said Donna.

"Oh, that'll be even better!".

Ringo then laughed even louder.

Donna then looked down at the broken piece of mirror in the girl's hand.

"Do you have a mirror, Maggie?", she asked her.

"This is it,", she said, holding out the broken glass.

"But do you have one that's not broken?".

"This was it, but Papa broke it. He said I shouldn't look in it so often,", she grumbled.

Donna bit her lip, and started fishing in her pockets. She finally found what she was looking for.

"Here you go,", she said, handing Maggie a little pocket mirror that she happened to have with her.

"Oh,", said Maggie, looking at it in wonder.

"Thank you, Miss Donna, bless you!", she said, hugging Donna again. Donna smiled.

"Don't let your dad see it,", Donna advised.

"I won't, Miss, I won't,", said Maggie still looking at it in awe.

"Now, where can we find Maxwell?", the Doctor pushed in.

"Oh,", said Maggie, remembering her end of the deal. "Well, I tell ya, it's complicated. And it's dang'rus,", she cautioned.

"We can handle it,", said Paul rather cockily. Donna rolled her eyes.

"Well, all right,", Maggie agreed, giving them all a glance like a person who is looking over prisoners headed to the guillotine.

"You have to go to the well, which is about 3 miles that a'way,", she said, motioning out into the distance. "Then you've got to climb the rock. Then cross the pass, go through the tunnel, climb down the shaft, and yer there. But be careful. He'll shoot ya on sight if you don't yell down first who ya arr and what ya want. And sometimes even then he will anyway. And like I say, if more 'n two of ya go, he'll shoot ya all 'fore ya can say anything.".

"You're going to have to write that down,", said the Doctor, trying to absorb the rather vague directions.

"Or better yet draw a map,", added John.

Just then, Maggie looked down. Tears formed in her eyes.

"What's wrong, ducks?", said Donna, the first to notice.

"Nothin',", she said, sniffing. "I just guess I can't help ya then.".

"Whad'you mean?", asked Donna.

"Papa didn't let me go to school. I can't even hold one of them pens right,", she said softly, trying to dry up her tears of embarrassment before they would fall.

The Doctor then realized. He had been rather a clot. He should have guessed this before he made such a stupid comment.

"It's all right, I'm sorry,", he said, looking down at the girl with kindness. "We can remember, can't we, lads?".

"Yeah,", resounded from the group.

"Good,", said Maggie, now managing a smile. "You'd best be off now. It'll be dark soon.".

"Well, which of us is going to go?", the Doctor wondered out loud, looking over his pale, English travelmates.

"Me, I know for sure,", said George, gulping, stepping forward.

"All right, Georgie, it's us, then, mate,", said the Doctor, punching George in the shoulder.

"Come on, mate,", he said, starting to walk into the sandy abyss. George followed, trying to look fearless.

"Good luck!", Donna shouted after them.

Paul noticed George looking pretty tense. "'Ey, we'll see ya on the flip side, mate!", he called.

George waved.

The remainder of the party watched them walking into the sunset for a bit before turning back to eachother.

"Blimey, I should have gone. He surely wouldn't shoot a woman,", said Donna, speculating.

"Best not, Miss Donna. He'll shoot anything, woman er man,", said Maggie gravely.

Maggie led them back to sit on the edge of the back porch.

"Your dad won't find us, will he?", said Paul, eyeing the back door nervously.

"Oh, no. 'Bout this time he gets a snoot full with Old Man Richards and the old marshal. The old-old marshal, mind, NOT the last-old marshal,", she reminded sternly.

"Well, who was the last marshal?", Ringo asked.

"Maxwell, 'a course! Don't you know 'bout him?".

"No, not really,", said Ringo.

"Well, he came into town a long time ago, out of nowhere. He was strange. Pretty soon he started hanging people from out of town on our town gall-as. They were stranger than him. Some even looked like some kind of animals. I saw him once, out my window at night when I'd been up watching the stars. He hauled in a whole cart full 'a strangers, most of 'em looked mighty strange. Some had skin different colors purple, blue! I couldn't believe it. I thought I must've accidentally drank out 'a Papa's canteen 'stead 'a my own. But it was true, cause old Mrs. Patt'ridge saw it too. But she'd just got her jug from Papa that night, so nobody believed neither of us,", the girl rambled.

The boys were giving Donna looks. They were all thinking the same thing. Maxwell was a space-cop, carrying out executions in the secret location of a near-deserted town in Texas. Either that or he was a space-vigilante.

"Every once in a while, folks would come 'a lookin' for 'im. They were mighty strange, too. Pretty soon, the town started suspectin' 'im of dealing in some strange ways. They threw 'im out. So he went down in the Hole. That's what he calls where he lives, where they're goin',", she said, gesturing into the distance, where George and the Doctor's disappearing figures could still be glimpsed.

"One time he was comin' into town for supplies. Nobody would supply 'im but old Mrs. Patt'ridge up at the general store. As 'e was leaving there, somebody shot 'im, but they missed, and hit 'im in the leg. We're never sure who did it, if it was somebody from 'round here, or one of the strange folks that used to come see him when he was the marshal. They used to come all the time, lookin' for 'im. Sometimes I'd hear 'em fightin', him and his visitors. But anywho, that's why he shoots when ya go to see him, I hear. He's 'fraid whoever shot 'im in the leg's gonna come back and get 'im.".

"Sounds bloody paranoid to me,", said Donna, raising her eyebrows.

"Oh!", said Paul suddenly. All heads turned in his direction.

"I wanted to ask you, why's the town called Thirsterren?", he asked Maggie.

"Oh, a lot 'a years ago now, an old man came through here tryin' to find a place to settle. Back then, this was still part 'a Mexico. 'S not now, 'course. But when he decided to stop here, stories tell that he finally dropped over cause he couldn't walk no more, and he said he was 'thirst'er 'en hell',", Maggie laughed. All the others did too.

"Little girl like you shouldn't know language like that,", said Ringo.

"Oh, you hear all sorts in there,", she said, motioning back into the tavern. "There ain't no church here, ya know.".

George was hot. Hotter than he had been before when they first crossed the desert. He didn't know if it had actually got hotter, or if he was just nervous for his meeting with Maxwell.

"So 'o is 'e, anyway?", George broke the silence.

"He used to be in UNIT. Then he joined the Time Agents. Special Interests division. Rough,", said the Doctor, canting his head and biting his lip.

"How d'you mean?".

"Special Interest agents pursue the toughest enemies, usually people or organizations with multiple offenses on their records. The agents in that division are in charge of the executions of their targets.".

"Oh, right,", said George.

His stomach flipped.

George and the Doctor walked for what seemed like forever before they finally made it to the well. It was as one might expect of a well; a circle of stones with a bucket on a rope dangling from a rod.

"Well. Where's the rock?", asked George.

"I think...", said the Doctor looking much higher up than George was. "THAT. Is the rock.".

George followed the Doctor's gaze.

"Crap.".

There was a huge, HUGE red rock. It was so large that George couldn't estimate its size. It was looming in the distance, at least another 2 miles away.

"How are your rock-climbing skills?", asked the Doctor.

George laughed. "I could do it in the dark with me hands tied behind me back!", he joked.

"Good,", said the Doctor, gazing at the setting sun.

George knew now. It was going to be a long journey, with no certainty of a return trip.

"So, what's it like where yer from?", Maggie asked, looking with wide, intent eyes at her new friends.

"Well...", sighed Paul, shifting uncomfortably, trying to remember what Holland had been like when they visited. He decided that he couldn't tell her about the airport, or the hotel, or the arena. And that was all he remembered.

"I'm going to tell you a secret,", he said to Maggie. This seemed to interest her.

He cupped his hand and whispered in her ear.

"We're English,", he said, though it was loud enough for everyone to hear if they tried.

This didn't seem to effect Maggie, but she quickly replied; "Oh, you can't let Papa hear ya say that. They'll fill ya full 'a lead, all 'a the drunkards in there.".

"Don't worry, we can handle your da,", said John confidently. This seemed to put Maggie at ease.

"So what's it like in England?", said Maggie, waiting for an answer again with the same enthusiasm.

"Well, erm,", started Paul again. "It rains a lot.".

"Oh, it rains?!", Maggie said, in awe. "How wonderful!".

This made Paul laugh. He realized how rare a sight rain must be to this girl, living where she lives.

"There's lots of green trees, and flowers, and things. Compared to here, that is,", chimed in Donna.

"And there's lots of people compared to here,", added Ringo.

"Why did you ever leave?!", said Maggie, and this made them all laugh.

"Because George got something stolen from him, and we came looking for it, and that search has led us here,", said Paul.

"What was it that got stolen?".

"A guitar.".

"Oh, do you play guitars?!", she said, looking at all of them, her gray eyes wide with delight.

"Yeah, we faff around with them,", said Paul with a snicker to John and Ringo.

"And sing?", she asked.

"Well, a bit, yeah,", admitted John.

"Can you sing for me? Please?", she begged. It had been a long time since she had had any fun. Years, in fact.

"Well, I dunno,", said Paul modestly.

"Oh, com'on, Paulie, we can manage a number, can't we?", said John.

"Yeah, Paul, come on, mate,", said Ringo, giving a test tap or two with his hands to the wood he was sitting on.

"All right, what are we doing, fellas?", said Paul, rubbing his hands on his trousers. It didn't take much persuasion with him.

"'Please Please Me'!", Donna shouted in.

"All right, mates, let's go,", said John.

Ringo started tapping on the porch, and before anyone knew anything, there was quite a party going on. Maggie started out by being thrilled to the bone by the new kind of music she had never heard before despite the fact that all she had the pleasure of hearing were the vocal and rhythm parts, and then she got up and started dancing. Donna, who had started out trying to be straight-faced, then started clapping along, and then, before long, her and Maggie were up together, dancing and hopping around in the sandy dirt. Methuselah even seemed to be nodding his head to the tap of Ringo's hands.

A few *OOOOOO*s and several *Ow!*s later, Donna had taught Maggie how to twist, John's voice was just getting warmed up for some signature screaming, Ringo was already a virtuoso of the instrument known as the porch-edge, and Paul was playing an imaginary bass. When guitar solos came, they would sing those too.

Maggie was wondering how in the good world she would be able to go on after these chaps and lady went away, when there came noises. She heard them. She knew what they meant. She stopped dancing, but not in time.

"HEY!".

Maggie jumped, and so did the others. Ringo stopped tapping, Donna stopped dancing, and Paul dropped his bass immediately. John was the last to stop. It took him a moment to realize everyone had stopped when he was so concentrated on his singing.

"WHAT THE SAM HILL IS GOIN' ON OUT HER'?", Maggie's father demanded.

He stumbled out onto the porch, rifle in hand.

"Nothing Papa,", said Maggie, shrinking back.

"I KNOW THEY'S SOMETHIN' GOIN' ON! THE WHOLE TOWN CAN HERR IT!".

Josh then turned to where Donna was standing. Then he noticed the Fab 3/4ths.

"IT'S THEM DAYUMED FOR'NERS!", he shouted, pointing his rifle at John.

"WHAT DO YA THINK YER DOIN'? CURRUPTIN' MY DAUGHTER! MAKIN' A RUCKUSS ON MY PORCH!", he demanded.

"This sounds vaguely familiar,", joked John.

Then Maggie came closer to the light teeming gently out of the back door, and her father saw her hair. Then he started quaking in his boots.

Then he started screaming incoherently.

Maggie the whole time was trying to pry the gun out of his hands as he tried to load it.

John and the others had of course hopped up off the porch. Just as the English people were preparing to run for it, there came an overpowering voice from just inside the door.

"HERE NOW!".

The clamor of voices ceased at once.

Donna watched as an old man hobbled feebly out onto the porch.

"THERE'S ONLY ONE WAY TO SETTLE THIS. A DUAL!", bellowed the small man. The combination of the physical appearance of this man and the power of his voice was almost comical.

Donna's mind started racing.

"Now, Josh,", said the man, pushing the barrel of Josh's gun down to the ground. "Who appears to be the leader in this group of ruffians?", he said, casting his gaze critically upon the English people.

Donna could have laughed when he called them 'ruffians', but she was too scared by the sound of the word 'dual' to even blink.

Josh looked between them all with fury in his eyes.

"I could take them all, Marshal!", he resolved, not finding one that he disliked more than the others.

"Now, Josh,", said the man.

"ALL RIGHT!", screamed Josh suddenly, not liking being chided when he was furious. "That one!", he said pointing at John. "He was the one screaming and carryin' on!".

John turned pale.

"ALL RIGHT! DRAW YOUR GUN, BOY!", shouted the marshal.

Donna, Paul and Ringo almost started panicking, all staring antsily at John's water pistol in it's holster.

"HOLD IT!", bellowed John to match the marshal.

Everyone was silent.

"If we're gonna fight, we'll do it like men! No weapons! Just man against man!".

The marshal paused, watching John start to wrastle off his jacket and roll up his sleeves.

"Is that how they do it where you're from, sonny?".

"Yeah, you're bloody well right!", shouted John.

"Ya see, I don't know much about over therr werr yer from, but I do know one thing that the Romans used to say. 'When in Rome, do as the Romans do'. Yer in Rome, buddy boy, so draw yer pistol!", shouted Josh with an unexpected surge of intellect.

John just stood there obstinately, trying to bluff.

"I said draw!", Josh shouted.

John stood still.

Then a smirk came over Josh's face.

"What's'a matter, boy? Are ya yella?".

John's eyes were instantly set ablaze. He would have tried to charge the man (who had traded his rifle for a pistol) if the boys hadn't restrained him with great effort. By then, all the patrons of the tavern were all gathered on the porch, ready to witness the fight of the year.

Donna found the sonic matchbox in her pocket and put her thumb on the button.

"Ya arr yella, ain't ya?! All them for'ners, they's all yella,", taunted Josh.

John was then turning so red with anger that he looked as though he might blow up.

"Just tell us so, boy! Yer yella!", Josh continued.

John was seething, grinding his teeth, exhaling loudly through his nose, writhing against the restraining grips of Paul and Ringo.

"Shut up!", came a small but fierce voice.

Josh turned to the source with all the fury of hell in his eyes.

"Whad'you just say to me?".

"Just leave 'im alone!", Maggie cried. "They ain't done anybody any harm!".

Josh then rared back, and delivered a terribly harsh slap to Maggie's face. It knocked her back against the wall.

"'N don't think I've finished with ya-", Josh started to his daughter, his head turned.

This was the perfect opportunity.

In a moment more, Josh was lying flat on the porch, and John was shaking his now sore knuckles.

"Com'on, Maggie,", said Ringo, grabbing her hand and starting to run in the direction of the well that George and the Doctor had started for about an hour before.

Paul and John started running too, and Donna followed.

There were various gunshots fired after them, but it was too dark for anyone to get a decent shot.

After they had been running for several minutes, Donna stopped, gasping for breath. The others did when they realized she was no longer following.

"Hey,", she said to John.

He approached her.

Donna then made an assortment of wheezing noises.

"Eh?", said John, bent over and trying to breath as well.

"Nice, hee, shot,", she managed through wheezing, mimicking a punch with her right fist.

While everyone else was trying to catch their breaths, Maggie latched onto Ringo, nearly strangling him.

"What is it?", he tried to laugh, though she was squeezing his neck so much he thought the blood circulation to his head was going to get cut off.

"Does this mean I'm going to be will ya'll forever?!", she said, happy tears in her eyes.

This made everyone stop and think.

There were several seconds of silence, and Maggie's manically-happy expression started to a fade a little as her hope did.

"Well, we can't very well send you back,", resolved Ringo when no one else spoke, which resulted in his total strangulation.

"Oh, my goodness, I'm going to live in England!", she squaeled.

This led to the next strain of thought by the English people. They had just gotten themselves into some degree of a mess.

"God, I'm thirsty,", said John, changing the subject.

"Oh, here,", said Maggie, finally releasing Ringo, who heaved in a deep breath upon the reopening of his airways.

Maggie went over to the well and starting drawing water.

"Oh, we're already to the well?", asked Paul.

"Yeah,", said Maggie, starting to haul the bucket back up.

"That means the rock isn't far,", Paul mused.

"Yeah, it's over there,", said Maggie, gesturing with her hand to their far right.

"I don't see anything,", said Paul.

"Yeah you do!", said Maggie, coming over to where Paul was standing.

"See what's blocking the sun?", she pointed.

Paul then noticed the very last lights of day teeming weakly around some massive object that he had mistaken for the night sky on the horizon before.

"Blimey,", they all echoed.

"Blimey!", gasped George, as he struggled to balance, the toes of his Cuban heels jammed into footholds on the rock.

"Blimey,", agreed the Doctor, who was above him, crawling along the surface like a monkey in Converse.

They had been struggling along the craggy surface for what seemed like hours, but in fact had only been less than an hour. Their arms were aching, and the only way they could see to find handholes and footholes in the rockside was by the light of the screwdriver, held in the Doctor's teeth. The Doctor had had a few stumbles, and George had had a near tumble, which made them go all the more slowly, considering and testing every hole before putting trust in it.

Finally they made it to the top. It was pretty dark by then.

"Where's the pass?", the Doctor, looking around.

George squinted in the dark, searching with his eyes for anything that could pass for a pass.

Suddenly, the Doctor heard a wail.

"George!", he shouted, turning pale.

"HELP!", George shouted.

The Doctor pointed his screwdriver in the direction that the cry had come from. He saw two hands gripping onto the edge of a ledge that he had not been aware of before.

"Hold on, George!", the Doctor sprinted.

"I haven't got much choice, mate,", said George, trying to be playful, though he was breaking out into a cold sweat. He couldn't feel anything but an icy cold breeze blowing under his boots. He had no desire to look down.

The Doctor grabbed both his hands, and after a considerable amount of hauling and struggling, George was once again on solid ground. He thanked the Doctor, and then he just lied there for a few moments, resting.

Just then, they both heard voices.

George furrowed his brow. The Doctor swallowed hard, listening.

"Where d'you reckon they are now?", said a voice.

"It's so bloody dark, I can't see the nose on me own face".

"Anyone but you wouldn't be able to see their nose anytime,", said another voice.

Then, a figure appeared on the cliff edge. In a limited sense of the word 'appear'. More like it emerged over the side, and dragged itself, rolling over onto the rocktop.

"Damn, I'm tired,", said a voice.

"Shut up, man, we're all tired,", said a grouchy female voice.

"Donna!", said the Doctor, his Time Lord vision seeing his companion pull herself up and over the ledge.

"Doctor?", she said, completely unable to see anything, looking around blindly.

"Donna,", he said, approaching her, tapping her shoulder.

Donna jumped.

"Doctor!", she said, seeing him when he bleeped his screwdriver.

"What are you doing here?", he said as Ringo appeared over the ledge, followed by Paul.

"Oh, we didn't get on with the bartender,", said John.

"Ah.", said the Doctor, not wanting to know any more.

Just then, the Doctor noticed Paul reaching back over the ledge, as if hauling something up the last few feet of the cliffside. In a moment more, there was a girl with a Beatle cut and a grin the size of Montana sitting on the top of the rock.

"What are you doing here?", said the Doctor, not hatefully, but with confusion.

"We've adopted her,", said Ringo.

"She's going to come back with us,", added John.

"Wh- wh- but, where's she going to live?", asked the Doctor, thrown.

"Well... We really don't know. We thought George'd take 'er,", said Paul.

"What? Me?", said George. "I can't! Pattie wouldn't understand. Why don't you take her, Macca?".

"Me? Jane'll murder me! Why don't you take 'er, John?".

"Well, I 'ave got a big house... But Cyn'll get hacked if I do. How 'bout you, Rings?".

"Then I might as well say goodbye to Mo,", Ringo retorted.

"Well, since none of ya have let me get in a word edgewise, I'll say it now!", Donna broke in. "Why don't you enroll Maggie here in a nice school for girls in London? And on holidays she can alternate between you lot's houses.".

Silence from the male parties of the group.

"Oh. Never thought of that. Right. Good idea, Donnie,", said John.

"Thought so,", said Donna.

"I'm going to school?!", Maggie exclaimed.

"Yeah, sure, we'll all split the bill, won't we, fellas?", said Paul.

"Sure,", they all echoed.

She then proceeded to inadvertently strangle Paul. After the first 10 seconds of Paul choking and trying in vain to inhale, she realized this fact and loosened her grip, apologizing.

"Good thing you're here now, Maggie. You can show us how to get across the pass,", said the Doctor.

"Oh, I'm going to be so happy,", said Maggie, not having heard the Doctor at all, now hugging George, who was chuckling at her joy. George felt a few of her tears absorb in his shirt. Maggie laughed and cried for another full minute, George awkwardly patting her back before she regained herself.

After she looked back at the Doctor, she realized that he had been waiting.

"Oh, sorry, sir, I was forgettin' myself sir, forgive me, sir,", she said, sniffing and drying her eyes quickly.

"Oh, no, don't apologize,", the Doctor a bit embarrassed. "And with us, there's only one rule;", he said. Maggie looked intrigued. "Don't call any of us 'sir'.".

"Except Donnie,", said John, hopping up and down, waiting to dodge a punch from Donna, which came.

This seemed to delight Maggie even more.

"All right, now that that's all sorted, the next question,", said the Doctor.

"What's that?", asked Donna.

"We're five people over the maximum to not get shot.".

"Oh,", said John.

"Bugger,", said Paul.

"Well, I'll tell ya what we'll do,", started the Doctor, starting to talk with his hands.

"But wait!", piped up Maggie.

All heads turned in her direction.

"I'll have to show ya how to find the pass!".

"Oh, Maggie, you shouldn't go. You said he shoots people, man or woman,", Donna attempted to discourage.

"Well, somebody's got to go that knows the way, otherwise there's no use!", Maggie insisted.

"Well, I'll be the other one to go. It's my guitar,", said George, stepping up.

"But you two don't even know what needs to be done,", said the Doctor.

"Well, tell me! You've been pretty secretive, this whole trip,", said George, losing patience a little.

"Oh, sorry,", said the Doctor, realizing that he was right. "You just need to ask him where the current CIA auction house is, like I said.".

"Oh. Easy enough,", said George.

"And ask it in a way as to not get filled with lead.".

George swallowed audibly. Maggie remained silent.

"I'm letting this one rest on your shoulders, George. I trust you,", said the Doctor reassuringly.

George felt the knot in his stomach tighten.

"And you too, Maggie,", said the Doctor.

Maggie smiled weakly.

 _A/N; Thanks ever so much for reading! And remember... Support starving artists by reviewing! LOL_


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N; Hello again :) I just wanted to really quickly apologize for my spacing on some of the previous chapters. I realized this past week that in places where I had put double spaces for a change of setting or whatever, it didn't carry over from my word software to the doc on this website. So sorry if you're ever reading along and are thrown when suddenly you have traveled in time and space and are with different people in just one short paragraph space. But hey, it is Doctor Who. XD They aren't mistakes, they're just little wormholes that the Doctor hasn't fixed yet._

 _Anyway, here it is! The big encounter. Hope you all enjoy :)_

"All right, Maggie, where to now?", asked George as he held the screwdriver light and followed along behind the young girl, his jacket slung over his shoulder and his sleeves rolled up. He felt rather like an explorer.

"We've gotta find the shaft,", she said, trodding carefully in her small black boots, her eyes searching the ground.

They were in a tunnel. It sort of started out as a crevice between two ginormous rocks, then the top had closed in over them. It was pitch black (except for the friendly little blue light the screwdriver emitted).

All of a sudden, George heard a little scream, and then he discovered that he was alone. He shined the light all over, softly calling "Maggie? Maggie?", but there was no answer.

"All right, Harrison, you've got yourself in a right mess now,", he mumbled, now taking a few cautious steps forward.

He had only taken about five steps when he decided to shine his light down onto the ground, which was a lucky thing, because his next step would have landed him in a dark and seemingly endless abyss.

He whistled to himself as the light of the screwdriver shone down into the hole. Its end was not in sight.

Just then, he heard a tremendously loud *BANG!*. He jumped back from the hole, just in the nick of time, as a bullet flew straight up towards where he had just been standing.

He was shaking in his boots when suddenly, he saw the faintest trace of light teeming up out of the hole.

He dared to creep back closer to the hole. His heart was pounding in his ears.

As he dared to extend his neck over the opening, he definitely saw light coming from below, though its source was coming from somewhere to the side of the opening. He thought he could hear the faintest sounds of voices. He strained to listen, but could not make out any words.

Then he heard a scream, followed by a deep voice speaking in an aggressive tone, again with unidentifiable words.

Then he heard rustling.

Another scream.

*BANG!*

But this sound was different than the first. It was slightly more muffled, and this sound did not reverberate throughout the tunnel like the first. But nonetheless, George suspected it was a gunshot.

Then George listened on, and there was total silence.

He didn't let his mind picture what he hoped so much hadn't happened, but what he feared had happened. He'd never forgive himself if this whole silly mission had gotten a girl shot.

He knew then what he had to do. He couldn't run back to the others. The Doctor had trusted him with this, and if he had messed it up, he was going to take responsibility. And even though it might already have been too late for Maggie, he wasn't going to walk away.

He turned around backwards and got down on his knees, preparing to lower himself down into the hole.

"There's got to be some sort of ladder,", he thought to himself, the toes of his Cuban heels feeling for footholds.

He swung his feet all around before he finally came to the conclusion that there was no ladder or anything like that whatsoever.

He was going to have to take the plunge.

George gulped.

His hands let go.

Thud.

It wasn't as far as he imagined to the ground, but it was a good 12 feet.

He had come down firmly on his feet into a small little stone-carven room. It was rather interesting, a bit like a little cave, but he didn't have much time to examine his surroundings.

George's eyes met immediately with the sight of Maggie, bound and gagged in the corner. Her eyes widened as they observed him. As soon as she realized that Maxwell was watching her, it was too late to disguise her expression. He followed her gaze directly to George. He whirled around, standing with his pistol at the ready.

George got a look at his face. He looked rather like the men in the tavern; dirty (though more so than any of the men in the town), bearded, and wielding a gun. Though George could tell he was a bit different. He had something about him that felt more dangerous.

"Sorry, Mr. Maxwell, but this is rather rubbish. I mean, you'd think a guy like you, 'e'd have a better hiding place than this,", said George, looking around at the small space. "I mean, anyone could just drop in at any time,", he smirked.

"Who the hell are you?", said Maxwell, his gray eyes widening.

"Oh, begging your pardon, I'm Harrison. George Harrison,", said George, studying the man's expression, waiting to see if the name would register with him.

The man noticed this.

"Is that supposed to mean somethin' to me?", said the man, gruffly.

"Oh, no, it's just you asked who I am,", said George. Okay, he hadn't been up on the CIA for a while.

"All right, now or later?", said the man.

"You what?", said George.

"Would you and the girl like to die now, or later?", said the man, pulling back the little switch on the back of the gun with his thumb.

George gulped, staring down the barrel of the pistol.

Maggie was as white as a sheet, holding her breath.

"I think I'll go for later. Much later. When do you want to die, Maxwell?", said George, now remembering and resting his hand on his water pistol, disguised in its holster.

Maxwell then started laughing, and rather evilly, George thought.

"You really think you've got a faster gun than me, boy?".

"No, it's just that you never answered when you wanted to die, so I naturally assumed you'd rather get it over with now, whereas Maggie and I opted to die later. I thought I'd have plenty of time,", said George, now staring Maxwell straight in the eyes.

"Clever,", said the man, obviously disgusted by this. "Shut up.".

"You mean you can't shoot me while I'm talking?", taunted George.

Maxwell snarled.

"I'm waiting till ya shut yer blabbering English mouth so I can ask ya what ya want with me!", he boomed.

"Oh, I didn't think you cared,", said George, scratching his eyelid lazily. "We know who you are, by the way. Came to ask you about the CIA.".

This visibly stunned Maxwell. His grip loosened on his gun, only to tighten again even tighter than before. He was pursing his lips very hard, and he began squinting at George.

"So what, hmm? You've come to take me back? Hmm? No, I don't think so, buddy. I've done enough of your dirty work. I don't know anything more than what I knew when you last heard from me.".

His accent had changed miraculously. He now sounding particularly New York-ish.

"Oh, we have our ways. And I'd put that gun away if I were you,", said George, now daring to creep closer to the man. The man seemed slightly frightened of George now. He slowly put his pistol back in its holster. George had a way of talking that was very persuasive. Especially since the man could see he had a strange device stuffed in his pocket that he had his hand on.

"Just tell us where the auction house is and we'll leave you to your hole in the ground,", said George with authority.

"I told you already, I don't know anything more-", said the man.

George then sprinted towards the man in one swift, daring movement. He jabbed an object that Maggie couldn't see against the man's rib cage.

"You know what this is?".

"N-no,", said Maxwell, started to quiver from the inside out.

"It's the latest in sonic technology. With the push of a button, I can have you crawling on the floor, the size of an ant,", George lied.

"Hmm, well...", said Gerard, considering. "You must not be with any agency if you say you want the same information twice. Freelancer, are ya?", he shot at George.

"You could say that,", admitted George.

"So why do you want to know, boy? One of the lords deal ya a dirty hand? Wanna go get back at 'im? HA!", Maxwell laughed.

"They stole from me! I'm going to go get back what's mine,", said George, never releasing Maxwell.

"Oh, you must be rich then,", speculated Maxwell, "to have something worth their while in stealing.".

"I'm not paying you for information that you apparently deal freely to others,", said George obstinately.

"Ah. Quick,", said Maxwell. "But not quick enough to make a deal with the lords. I would almost tell you, just let you go on to the Pit, that's what they call their joints, just so they could kill you both for me,", said Maxwell, his gaze twisting around to Maggie, who was trying with all her might to spit out the gag shoved in her mouth.

"I don't think you've got any room to be making threats, ya blaggard,", said George, tightening his grip on the back of Maxwell's collar.

"But you know why I can't do that?", said Maxwell snarkily. "Because I happen to recognize this little girl. From Thirsterren,", he said, his gaze twisting around to her.

"It's been years, and you've got a different haircut, yes, but I still recognize ya, make no mistake. I can't let you little kiddies go back tattling about my hole in the ground to the rest of the town.".

"I'd shut up if I were you,", said George, the sound of anger rising in his voice, which was very rare for him.

"So, what's all the him-haw for, boy? You told me you could miniaturize me with whatever it is you've got jabbed into my rib. I'm not gonna tell ya what ya want to know, so do it! Pull the trigger!".

George looked around awkwardly, still trying to bluff. He was desperately asking himself the question "What would the Doctor do?" over and over in his mind.

"This is your last chance...", said George, fumbling with thoughts of what to say and do next in his mind.

"No, boy. That's where you're wrong. It's yours,", said the man, now deciding to break away from George's grip. He put his hand on his holster again. George and Maggie then looked like deer in headlights once again.

"Now, I'll ask ya again, kiddies - do you want to die now, or later?".

"What does the later option entail? I was thinking I'd die at home, in a nice cottage in the countryside, on a nice summer day, when I'm old and gray,", said George. "'Ey, that last bit rhymes,", he nodded to Maggie, whom he had squatted down beside, though his eyes never left Maxwell. "Have to write that down sometime,", he continued to muse, starting to untie Maggie. Maxwell made no attempt to stop him, both parties knowing it made little difference if he was going to shoot them then and there.

"I'm afraid you don't have that much time, considering your sonic technology seems to be failing you, and you're too afraid to use your gun,", said Maxwell, nodding at George's holster. George did not let that jab effect him. He remained composed.

"If you choose 'now', I'll shoot you both now. If you choose 'later', I'll take you far, far out into the desert, and leave you there, and let old Mother Nature do the work for me.".

"That second option depends on the unlikely event that we would not try to walk back to civilization,", said George.

"You can't do that if your legs are shot off.".

George then smirked. In a few moments more, the smirk turned into an outright smile.

"What are you smilin' about, Jack?", said Maxwell, confused.

"Me name isn't Jack,", said George, helping Maggie to stand up next to him.

Then, to Maxwell's shock, George produced Maxwell's shiny silver-colored pistol from his trouser pocket. He aimed it at Maxwell, and laid his finger calmly on the trigger.

"It's George.".

"Bu-but,", stammered Maxwell.

"Better get a holster with a cover on the top of it, mate,", said George cockily.

Maxwell was now speechless.

"So now, have we come to an understanding?", asked George, started to encroach upon Maxwell, who was now afraid, flattened against the wall.

"Oh, yes, sir, yes,", said Maxwell, now cowering.

"Funny, a minute ago I was a kiddie, now I'm a sir,", laughed George. "So, back on the subject; where is the auction house?".

Maxwell gulped.

George smiled a little. From the expression on the man's face, George could tell he was about to spill the beans at any minute as he stared down the barrel of his own gun.

"Hmm, perhaps I need to rephrase the question...", said George, shoving the gun now inches from Maxwell's nose.

"Do you want to die now. Or later?".

Maxwell's eyes bulged.

"You've got to call the Pepper Intergalactic Tour Agency. Ask to talk to The Sergeant.".

"Sergeant who?", asked George.

"Just The Sergeant. 'E's the lord now. Tell him you want the Magical Mystery Tour.".

"What utter nonsense is that? Are you lying to me?", asked George, narrowing his brown eyes.

"NO! No, sir,", said Maxwell, shaking in his boots. "He'll tell you where to go.".

"Anything else?", asked George, starting to take Maggie back towards the way out.

"No, sir, that's all you'll need to know.".

"Good. It's been... Colorful, Maxwell,", George laughed lightly, giving Maggie a boost back up out of the cave.

"And don't get any ideas about following us, eh?", he said as he started to pull himself back up with the help of Maggie.

Once they were out of the cave, George took up the screwdriver in his left hand and the gun in his right.

Once they had run quite a distance (looking back over their shoulders at frequent intervals) and the top of the shaft started to open up to let in the dim moonlight, Maggie turned back to him.

"You were wonderful!", she said to him.

"You want to know a secret?", said George.

"Yes,", she said, and George bent down to whisper in her ear.

"I don't know how to use a gun.".

Maggie at first was shocked.

"Really?!".

"I don't have the faintest idea. All I know is what I've seen in films. I don't even know if it's loaded!", he exclaimed and Maggie started giggling uncontrollably. "Though I guess it is, otherwise he wouldn't have stayed put like that when I showed it to him.".

"Here, you'd better have this,", he said, handing her the gun. "It's probably safer in your hands.". She proceeded to take the bullets out and put them in her dress pocket.

They started trotting on, the light of the screwdriver lighting their way.

"Is that really what it's like where you're from?".

"What?".

"People don't even know how to use guns?".

"Oh, some do. Only guy I ever really knew that had a gun all the time was Gene. He was always quick to start waving it at people when he got angry. I didn't hang out with him much.".

After running a little while longer and doing some climbing, George and Maggie were back with the rest of the TARDIS team. They all greeted George with pats on the back and ruffles of the hair, and Donna gave Maggie a big hug.

"We thought you were dead after all this time!", joked John.

"Why didn't you come looking for us?", returned George.

" _I'm too young to die!_ ", said John in a ridiculous mouse-like voice, which made everyone laugh.

"Do we have a lead now, George?", said the Doctor, knowing that they did by the look on George's face.

"Yeah. We do.".

 _A/N; Woohoo! We're making progress. "I do believe it's getting better, it's getting better all the time *it can't get no worse*". If you didn't recognize that, you shouldn't be reading this story. Just kidding, and well, if you didn't recognize it, you need to be listening to Sgt. Pepper WHILE you read ;)_

 _Tell me what you guys think so far, okay? I love hearing from you. A review is like a shot of steroids for my typing fingers. ;)_

 _Always remember, never forget; peace and love, and check back here next Thursday!_


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N; Hello again friends. Here's another chapter; not as much excitement in this one, but if you like Maggie, she's one of the main subjects here, so here you go. If you don't like Maggie, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry (Tenth Doctor quote intended)._

 _Enjoy :)_

After they party had made the long trek back across the desert, aiming in the dark in the general direction of where they parked the TARDIS, though obviously trying to avoid the town of Thirsterren, Maggie started to ask questions.

"So how are we getting out of here?", she asked eagerly.

The others then had a moment of thought. They had rather forgotten to mention that they were from the future and they had a spaceship/time machine. Oops.

"Well, it's complicated,", started the Doctor.

"How?", she asked.

"See, it's like this,", said the Doctor. "I don't mean to alarm you, but the boys and Donna here are not only English, but they're from the future.".

"Huh?", said Maggie, after a moment of thought.

"We have a ship, of sorts, that... well, it travels in time.".

"In time with what?", she asked. They must not have science fiction where she came from.

"No, um, what he means, is, um, we're from the year 1964,", explained Paul.

"You mean...?", Maggie said at length. She then looked a little sick. This may have been too much for her to swallow.

"And I'm from 2008,", said Donna. "And the Doctor is from outer space.".

"What's outer space?", she asked.

"Well, Maggie,", the Doctor stopped her. Boy, she had had a sheltered life.

The Doctor put an arm around her paternally and with his other arm, he pointed up to the stars, very vivid in the desert's night sky.

"I'm from the stars. Another world, actually.".

"Oh,", said Maggie, breathlessly.

They all stood in silence for a moment.

At length, she asked.

"This may sound childish, but are you an angel?".

"No, not exactly,", said the Doctor, a little flattered.

"I dunno, some might say he is,", said Donna, giving the Doctor a fond smile, which the Doctor returned.

They walked on, and eventually made it to the TARDIS.

Maggie was studying it. It was glowing like a beacon in the night, and it looked rather mystical.

"How are we all gonna fit in there?", she asked at length.

"Oh, you might want to brace yourself,", said Donna as the Doctor unlocked the doors.

He cast open the doors.

Maggie's jaw dropped. She rushed inside. Her heart was racing.

She ran back out, pushing past John, who was chuckling.

She traced the perimeter of the TARDIS several times. It was definitely real.

She stepped up to the threshold, gazing up at her new friends, who were gathered around the console. They all studied her expression for a moment.

"There's much more to the universe than you ever imagined, Maggie. And you're going to see a lot of it,", said the Doctor with that magical look in his eye.

Just then, they all looked on in silent alarm as Maggie' eyes started to roll back in her head. Her knees failed. She slumped over.

The party decided it was time for a much-deserved break. In about 30 minutes, the TARDIS was cheerily floating, orbiting the Earth (one of her favorite leisurely passtimes), Donna was in the TARDIS wardrobe, trying to find some non-sandy clothes to change into, and the Doctor was in the bathroom, in the middle of the quite scientific and serious task of washing the sand out of his hair. John and Paul were on the bench-seat in the console room, Paul sitting upright, and John upside down, his legs from the knees down lopped over the back. They were singing and trying to work out some new lyrics to kill some time. George, Ringo and Maggie (who had been revived) were sitting cross-legged in a circle on the floor of the console room, and the former two were trying to teach the latter-most some of their modern 'Swinging London' slang.

"Now, pop quiz!", exclaimed Ringo.

"I'm ready!", said Maggie, putting her fists under her chin, leaning forward, waiting.

"Potty,", said Ringo.

"Nutty,", she returned.

"Good,", said Ringo.

"Gear,", said George.

"Real neat,", said Maggie.

"Good.".

"Grotty,", said Ringo.

"Bad, gross,", returned Maggie.

"Cool,", said George.

"Real gone,", said Maggie.

"Boss,", said John, now alert to their conversation.

"The best. Top,", said Maggie.

"Fab,", said Paul.

Maggie thought a minute.

"It's a really important one,", said Paul, prodding her.

"The same as gear,", she said decidedly.

"Yeah, well...", said Paul, as if he didn't want to tell her that she was wrong.

"'Ey, that's right, man! Don't give 'er a hard time!", said George.

"She'll get a feel for it after a bit,", Paul said.

"All right, guys and dolls!", trumpeted the Doctor as he emerged in his TARDIS-blue bathrobe, rubbing his head with a fluffy white bath towel.

"Let's get our heads together and be getting on down the trail,", he said, tossing the towel to the side, hitting Paul in the face.

"Ey!", Paul exclaimed.

"Oh, sorry, mate,", said the Doctor.

"Hey, Doctor wait, listen to this,", said Ringo. The Doctor turned.

"All right, Maggie,", said Ringo. "List Ringo's five tips to staying in school, and being a proper bird- er, young lady.".

"Oh,", said Maggie, trying to remember. "Number one; eat your greens. Number two; get good marks. Number three; Don't get in fights. Number four; Never date a boy with a motorcycle. And Number five; Never get caught doing the Three S's at school.".

"Very good!", said Ringo, beaming.

"What are the Three S's?", asked Donna, just then joining them again.

"Smoking, spitting, and swearing,", said Maggie.

"And what's wrong with motorcycles?", said the Doctor.

Ringo waited expectantly for Maggie to answer.

"He can't afford a car,", she said. "Whatever that is,", she added under her breath.

This got a hoot out of the Doctor.

"And listen to this, Doctor,", said George, turning to Maggie. "The pork in the park looks like a shark in the dark", said George in his poshest accent.

"The pork in the park looks like a shark in the dark,", Maggie repeated back, sounding quite English.

"The Queen couldn't have spoken it better,", said the Doctor, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Good work for only a half hour.".

"And when she gets into school, she's going to get proper piano lessons,", said Paul.

"Oh, fun,", said Donna, smiling. Maggie was beaming from ear to ear.

"Old Jim Rickett taught me how to play some on the tavern piano. It's- gear,", she used one of her new words.

"And she'll have painting lessons, too,", added John.

"And dancing lessons,", added George.

The Doctor and Donna gave each other knowing glances. Maggie had very quickly become what a lot of girls throughout history would have wanted to be; the pet of all four Beatles.

"Hey, Maggie, why don't you go up to the wardrobe? The TARDIS'll find you some new clothes,", said Donna. She wasn't being snotty about Maggie dusty, very worn dress, but she thought it would make the girl feel good to get a change of clothes.

"Really?", she said, hopping up.

"Yeah, I'll show you the way,", said Donna, leading her back out of the console room.

"And NO miniskirts!", the Doctor shouted after her.

The others laughed at him.

"All right, Harrison,", said the Doctor, taking off his robe. To everyone's surprise (but definite relief), he was wearing a crisp suit and tie underneath. "What's the scoop?".

George cleared his throat.

"Well, it's kind of weird, but this is what he told me; We've got to call Pepper Intergalactic Tour Agency, and ask for The Sergeant. Then we've got to ask for the Magical Mystery Tour, and he'll tell us where to go.".

"All sounds like some kind of ridiculous code,", said Paul, laughing lightly.

Donna had overheard the whole thing and bit her tongue as she reentered the room.

"Yeah, weird,", said the Doctor half-heartedly (more like quarter-heartedly), looking away from the group.

"So how do we get in contact with this agency?", asked Donna.

"No idea,", said George.

They all looked to the Doctor, who was thinking and looking at the floor, wondering himself what to do.

"Well, lads, what do you do when you don't know the number?".

"Ask the operator?".

"Yep.".

"You know the name, look up the number,", said Donna, her eyes laughing manically. The Doctor gave her a suppressed smile.

"'Hello, operator?", said the Doctor. The others were crowded around him, trying to hear what was being said on the other end.

Donna was thoroughly confused. There couldn't be an operator for the entire Universe, for pity's sake. Nevertheless, she just stood and listened.

"It's the Doctor,", said the Doctor, a smile tugging at his mouth.

It was only a short moment before the Doctor busted into a loud fit of laughter.

"Hey, mate, how ya doing? Good, right?", the Doctor laughed.

Everyone else started chatting among themselves, and George started relating to the other boys his showdown with Maxwell.

"Yeah, I know mate, but I need the number anyway. I won't say I got it from you,", mumbled the Doctor, turning away from the others.

"Aha, thanks,", said the Doctor, scribbling down a number onto a pad. "Take care, mate... Mm hmm. Ta.".

"Have you got it?", they all asked at once.

"Yeah, I think so.".

In a few moments more, George was hanging up from making his reservation on the Magical Mystery Tour, and the Doctor was preparing the TARDIS for takeoff.

"So where are we going?", asked Donna.

"Montezuma 5,", replied the Doctor.

"That's really the name of it?", asked Donna.

"Yeah, it's... A bit of a rough area. Keep your heads.".

Once they had landed the Doctor stopped them all before they exited the TARDIS.

"Here,", he threw a large mass of dark-colored fabric at them all. "You'll need these.".

Once they had separated the mass into individual garments, they discerned that they were big, bulky, black coats with tall collars.

"Are we supposed to look like gangsters, Doctor?", laughed Donna.

The Doctor gave them a knowing look. This shut them all up.

Donna swallowed. She was a little afraid, and she could tell the others were too. The Doctor, he was anxious. He was checking to make sure he had everything he needed in his pockets; screwdriver, psychic paper, the works. George was pensive. He was staring off into space, his hands in the pockets of his large coat. John and Ringo were muttering things to each other, and Paul was standing to the side, wringing his hands.

No one else saw it, but Donna spied the Doctor putting the pistol that George had taken from Maxwell into his inside coat pocket. When he caught her looking, he just gave her a look. This scared Donna more than anything. The Doctor hated violence. He would face all the armies of the universe armed with nothing but his brains and his quick wit (and okay, maybe a sonic screwdriver). What about this place could possibly motivate him to carry a gun?

"No bullets,", mumbled the Doctor to Donna, showing her the bullets he had thrown in a nearby wastebasket.

Donna nodded a little.

"George,", the Doctor approached him privately.

"Yeah?", said George, called out of his daydream.

"Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, absolutely sure?", the Doctor asked, his eyes not meeting George's.

George hesitated a moment. "Yeah.".

"Right, then,", said the Doctor. He turned to the others. They all stopped what they were doing and turned to him.

"Right, ready?", said the Doctor in rather a subdued tone. He bit his lips as soon as he finished his question.

The others nodded sullenly.

"Avoid speaking, but you're going to need to disguise your accents if you do have to. Don't ever mention your real names. And the most important rule;", said the Doctor, turning back to them at the last moment before they left the TARDIS. "Don't ask any questions.".

No one said anything.

They all stepped outside.

 _A/N; There we are. We're about to reach our ultimate destination. Poof, I never thought we'd get here! Haha_

 _I'd LOVE to hear your thoughts on this story so far! Reviews are worth more than gold to me ;)_

PeaceloveandTARDIS people


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N; Hello people. Hope you enjoy this chapter._

Donna stayed close to the boys. The boys stayed close to Donna. The Doctor walked a little ahead of the group, peering around cautiously. The rest of the group couldn't see his face, but he was looking around every corner, his eyes darting around, looking suspiciously into every shadow.

It was a strange planet. They seemed to be in some sort of marketplace, or bazaar. There were tents set up on both sides of the street, all sorts of aliens selling their wares. One resident of Raxacoricofallapatorius (not in human uniform) called out to Ringo, and babbled incoherently about his wares, motioning back and forth rapidly with his claws between Ringo and whatever he was selling (which looked somewhat like raw haggis, but perhaps a stage past rotten). Ringo was a little terrified and a little green in the face after noticing the wares (with both his eyes and his nose). John, holding his breath, put his arm around Ringo's shoulders and pushed him to walk on. John gasped in a breath of slightly fresher after getting a fair distance away.

It was rather a rather harsh climate. It was quite cold, and the street had patches of some slick substance on it. It was like a partially dried, brown goo of a rather jelly-like consistency. It smelled as well. Donna covered her nose and mouth to keep from getting sick.

The architecture was nothing to rave about here on Montezuma 5. The only sort of shelters that any of them could see besides the tents were lean-tos built of scrap metal.

Just then, Paul stepped in a large deposit of the mysterious brown goo. Donna saw his face become rather gray as he lifted his Cuban heel up to inspect the bottom of it with dismay. He choked a little as the smell started to drift up to him. The aliens nearby were snickering at him as if he were some sort of novice.

"Here,", said Donna, guiding him on before there developed too much of a scene.

Paul limped along, trying to step lightly on the afflicted boot in an attempt not to ingrain the substance in the tred of his sole.

"What is it?", he whispered to Donna. "Is it crap?". His despair may have been comical if it would have been in a different time and place.

"I dunno,", said Donna, peering with disgust at another deposit of the mystery goo a few feet away on the ground.

Then, at that moment, the Doctor heard a little hissing sound to the side as they passed a dark alley between shacks and tents.

"All right, 'ey, man, it's good to see ya back in N'Orleans, man,", said a gravelly voice. Everyone silently took a little breath, except George, who know just what to say.

"'Listen to what the man said,", he said, trying to sound like a very posh Southerner.

To onlookers, this was a rather odd scene. To those on the TARDIS team, it was clever use of codes supplied to them over the phone to identify their contact and to identify themselves to him. And to Donna and the Doctor (and no doubt anyone with experience with an album called "Venus and Mars"), it was yet another obvious nod to the future of the four oblivious lads from Liverpool. It was occurring to Donna that it was rather eerie that everything to do with this criminal gang seemed to be based off of her new friend's lives and work. She didn't know what to think about it, but she knew it was a clear indication that they should all proceed carefully. Even more carefully than they ever had thought to do before.

After making contact with the shady figure whom none of them could see in the shadows, the party followed him cautiously at his bidding. They were winding down the very dark alleyway, following what they could only tell was a dark and cloaked figure, still totally anonymous. John, Ringo and Paul were huddled together, bringing up the rear. Donna tried to look like a tough, rough character, chewing on a toothpick she had happened to have in her pocket, walking in front of them. She thought maybe this would make her look like someone no one would want to tangle with (and she was rather succeeding). The Doctor and George walked closest to their mysterious contact, but at a safe distance. George tried not to let the chilly wind make him shiver. He turned up his coat collar, hunching over his shoulders, trying to look as mysterious as the contact that seemed to be leading them further into darkness, and somewhat downhill. The Doctor had a set expression, and his sharp Time Lord eyes kept scanning around, making sure that there was no one about to ambush them. He knew better than the rest of them what to expect from this kind of place, and he didn't want to share the details with them.

"Fellows, let's try'n look like thugs, instead of cowering schoolgirls,", John mumbled under his breath to the drummer and bass player.

"How do we do that?", whispered Ringo hoarsely.

"Talk like Jerry from the shipyard,", suggested Paul.

"I don't feel like swearing right now,", returned Ringo skeptically.

"No, just the tone, mate, the tone,", said Paul.

"And hunch your shoulders,", said Paul, pushing Ringo and John's shoulders over.

"And spit on the ground,", said John, spitting a gob (Donna cringed).

"And fight amongst ourselves,", said Ringo, shoving John. John shoved him back. They started giggling as Paul 'started to aim a punch' at John's face. They were starting to have a bit too much fun.

This continued for a few more moments until Donna turned round, looking rather tough in her big coat, toothpick between her teeth.

"'Ey, cut it, boys,", she said in a well-executed gravelly voice that sounded like it had been the long-time victim of heavy smoking.

The boys shrugged. Donna was doing it better.

They followed the figure for a long while before the Doctor felt the need to break the golden rule; ask a question.

"Where exactly are you leading us? I haven't got all day, young man. I have a lunch appointment with the Archduke of, of Smithsonian, you know,", said the Doctor, trying to sound posh. Hopefully this contact wasn't too familiar with the British nobility or American museums.

The figure simply growled, sending a chill down Donna's spine that she couldn't stifle. It was indeed a horrendous growl.

This shut them all up, including the Doctor, but not for long.

The continued to go down, down, down, and the air seemed to be getting warmer. There was still no sign of light. The surface of the ground seemed to be smooth now, like new pavement instead of craggy like in the marketplace above.

"Left!", rasped the voice all of a sudden, and the Doctor turned a sharp left, tugging George behind him. Everyone but this mysterious contact and the Doctor were completely blind in this total darkness, following the sounds of the footsteps of the person in front of them.

The company were now in a narrow hallway with a low ceiling. George thought he felt moisture under his boots lapping slightly as he stepped in it. The walls were wet too, as Paul would find out, bumping into it. The surface was rather sticky. Paul cringed, peeling his coatsleeve off it.

It soon came to the attention of the group that it didn't smell too good down here in the tunnel. Not to say that any of the planet smelled good (Ringo was still feeling a little queasy from the haggis episode), but this smelled particularly not good. John gagged, and before he could think blurted out, "Cor, what's that smell?".

No one answered him, because no one knew and no one wanted to know.

Gradually, the Doctor and George felt the water rising up around their ankles, and then all the way up their legs, until they were sloshing along quite unmerrily.

"Where are you taking us?", the Doctor finally demanded of the figure who was leading them.

"You wanted to see the Sergeant, didn't you?", he growled back at him.

Ringo whimpered as he started to wade in what he was imagining to be stagnant water, though he couldn't see it in the dark. It had an absolutely putrid smell, and all of the party were reduced to covering their noses and mouths to prevent choking on the smell. It was somewhat acidic, burning one's nostrils, but it had a ripeness to it that was the real kicker.

Finally, they turned a sharp corner to the right, and light stunned their eyes. As soon as their eyes adjusted adequately, they saw that there was a grating covering an opening in the ceiling, and there was a ladder leading up to it.

"Climb,", demanded their contact gruffly.

By now, the water was up to about waist-high, and the lower portions of their big coats were soaked, weighing all members of the party down. Paul was thinking to himself what Brian was going to say when they all said they needed new Cuban heels as he felt moisture filtering in on his socked feet. George was the first to haul himself up and out of the water and onto the ladder.

As she was waiting to get up onto the ladder, Donna felt something slither around her ankle. She let out an involuntary yelp.

"What is it?", Ringo whispered up to her.

"God, I felt something go 'round my ankle,", Donna rasped.

Ringo nervously jerked on the knot in his tie, loosening it from around his throat. He didn't tell her that he had felt something slither past him too.

At that moment, John's face and neck muscles visibly tensed, his eyes staring straight forward. He was feeling it crawl around him too.

As soon as they were all on their way up the ladder, they were glad. When the last member of the party reached the top (which happened to be Paul), they expect their contact to follow them. Instead, what they got was a violent closing of the grate behind them, and a low growl that resonated throughout the hollow tunnel beneath them.

"All right, then,", said John, raising his eyebrows.

They were all alone now, strangers in a strange land.

"Where to now, fellows?", said Paul, having a look round.

They were now in another tunnel, though this one was bigger and was thankfully dry. There were little gaslights hanging from the ceiling, but if one followed the light, they only led in one direction. The other direction (behind them) was total darkness.

"Ugh!", Donna suddenly exclaimed.

"What?". They all said.

"Look!", she said, pointing to the grating where they had just emerged from. On it said "MZ5 Sewer, No. 797AQ45".

They all stood in a moment of disgust, looking at their wet clothes (some trying very hard not to throw up).

"Ah, well, it's over now, isn't it, fellows?", said George, shaking a bit of goo off his boot.

"It's certainly over for my boots,", moped Paul. "I got these in America, you know,", he said, squishing in his now ruined footwear.

"Buck up, Macca!", said Donna, only to get a very stern look from the Doctor. "Er, Macintosh!", she pretended to correct.

"So which way to the place?", said John, looking around.

"Follow the lights?", proposed Donna.

The Doctor started scanning with his screwdriver.

"Hmm. Good thing we're not relying on you, Donna,", said the Doctor, which earned him a very indignant expression from the redhead.

"So which bloody way would you suggest, Marsian?".

"Security system down that way. It's armed. The one down this way is disarmed at the moment,", said the Doctor, starting to lead them into darkness, shining his screwdriver to light the way.

They walked some distance this way before they heard through the wall to their left the sounds of... People. Laughing and talking.

"We're here,", whispered the Doctor. "Remember the rules, mind,", he reminded the others. He started searching around in the dark for something on the wall that looked like a window or door.

"Lads,", the Doctor said, turning back to them as if just realizing something.

"What is it?".

"Comb your hair to the side,", he said, looking at their Beatle cuts as if he distrusted them.

"Lend me your comb, Ringo,", said John, feeling in his own pockets and coming up empty.

"We've got to go home,", replied Ringo, singing.

"Don't sing, lads! We can't let them know who you are or you'll never come out of here alive!", insisted the Doctor frantically.

"Sorry, mate. Habit,", said Ringo, passing his comb around.

There were various chatterings among the group as they tried to restyle their 'hur'.

"It's sticking this way, lads!", said George, exasperatedly trying to comb his hair back, but it just kept flopping back over his forehead.

John had just discovered that he had a massive cowlick when he tried to comb his hair to the side, causing everyone to laugh at him.

"Here,", said Donna, combing all their hair for them hurriedly in any way besides forward.

They looked a bit weird, but at least they didn't look like themselves, and that was what the Doctor was looking for.

He looked them all over.

"I could still recognize you. Here,", he said, taking his glasses off his own face and putting them on George. George did good until he staggered and fell down.

"Strong bifocal,", he said, giving them back to the Doctor and rubbing his eyes.

"Well, I guess this'll have to do,", sighed the Doctor. "Turn your collars up,", he said. They did, and it covered their faces up to about cheekbone-level.

The Doctor then made a discovery. He knocked around gently on the wall until he found a spot that had a slightly different sound, rather hollow.

"Hey, gang, we've got something,", he said, smiling. He then gave a firm four raps on the wood. This suddenly brought back a tremendously painful memory, so he added another knock.

Then, to all of their total shocks, the wall opened.

Once inside what the owners of the place called the 'Pit', the gang inquired discreetly if Rita would like to take some tea with them (another code supplied to them over the phone meaning 'we want to see the Beatle collection'). At that, they were looked over skeptically by a couple of thugs following their 'host', who was wearing a red velvet smoking jacket and had a rather obnoxious mustache. Their 'host', who had previously been tending a card table, then led them through the myriads of gaming tables, rather frightening characters slouched, crouched, and otherwise gathered around them. Mostly alien were the patrons, a but there were enough humans to be able to pick them out of the crowd (human at least in outward appearances).

The place was rather... Large. Very large. Even larger than the Vinvocci Embassy. The casino portion of the establishment was the size of Anfield Stadium easily, the Liverpool boys thought to themselves. The ceilings were high, with enormous chandeliers dangling from them. The entire room was draped in the same red velvet that their host was wearing. There seemed to be a constant stream of waiters in like uniforms pouring out of a door still several yards away from the group. They were all carrying trays with fizzling drinks in fancy glasses of quite irregular space-shapes.

It was quite a long walk to cross the room, but they eventually made it and were led out a small door into an immaculately white hallway. The walls were made of an indescribable, shiny, seamless white material, and so were the ceiling and floor. Their host looked rather perturbed at the thought of this party tracking over it, seeing as they had just literally climbed out of the sewer. They had dripped off most of the goo on the red carpets of the casino, so they were just making rather dry tracks now. Donna found it rather hard to believe that anyone else there had had to go through such an ordeal just to get into the club, or whatever it was. They had all looked like very clean old men.

Once they were all in the hallway, following the 'host', who had a rather sinister undertone in his voice, the Doctor had urged George to take the lead in the group. They all kept their heads down and their collars turned, which wasn't questioned because it was probably the standard for most customers of the place.

Finally, they were brought into a room about the size of a cricket field. It was round like one, at least. It had an eerie silence about it that did not go unnoticed by anyone. Donna nearly jumped out of her shoes when the heating came on with a little click.

"What were you wanting to see sir, one particular piece or all of it?", the host questioned, lightly fiddling with one corner of his mustache.

"I want to see the Gretsch,", George said flatly.

"Ah, I see, a man of good taste,", said the man, bidding them to follow him.

It was a bit like a museum. Everything was behind glass, and it was also somewhat like a maze, twisted round and round in circles until you found yourself without a way out but to try and retrace your steps. The Doctor thought to himself that there was an obvious strategy in this, and it wasn't pretty. None of the others noticed this. They were too wrapped up in gawping at the artifacts that were all centered around them.

The Doctor got behind them and herded them through rather hastily to avoid them seeing anything in too much detail. This was all very risky.

When John almost stopped to look at a picture of himself taken in about 5 or 6 years, the Doctor stepped up behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Ah,", said John, seeing his point, and then looking at the ground for the rest of the trip.

"You'll find, sir, the more priceless items are in the center of the room, here,", he said, motioning around.

"'Ey, that's Aunt Mimi's chair!", John suddenly blurted out at the sight of a tattered armchair with a doily draped across the back.

John then looked like he was mentally slapping himself in the face as the host gave him a rather stern and suspicious look.

Paul simply went white when he looked at the bedspread from his bed, neatly folded on the very sofa that he had been looking at in a London furniture store a number of weeks ago to replace his old one.

"Familiar with these items, sir?", asked the host, looking at John, who looked rather enraged that these hooligans had somehow stolen Aunt Mimi's chair.

"Yes,", said John, afraid to allow his mouth to move any more than to say that word, afraid that he would say what was on his mind; 'My Aunt Mimi's sitting on the cold floor now thanks to you, you sod!'.

"Yes, you must have received our ad page, sir,", said the man rather arrogantly.

"No, I'm afraid I didn't do,", said John, now in the mood to contradict anything and everything that came out of the man's mouth, whether it made sense to or not.

"These items are quite exclusive, sir, you must be quite an avid collector if you are familiar with this piece,", he said, motioning to the chair.

"I'm not an avid collector, and that's not exclusive. Millions of 'em were for sale at J and T in 1948.".

The man smirked. The Doctor knew that he was starting to catch on. He was wishing that he had a sock to shove in John's mouth about now.

"Clever, sir. You must have the eye for furniture,", the man humored him.

"The Gretsch, sir, the Gretsch,", George reminded the man, trying to distract from John so maybe he could have a few seconds to cool down.

"Ah, yes,", said the man, now a knowing look in his eye that the Doctor could clearly read. He knew now that there were going to be plenty of lythm-rogs going round.

He pulled back a curtain.

There it was. Brown, with beautiful gold accents.

George tried to remain expressionless, but the rest of the boys and Donna could tell that it struck a chord with him to see it again. He took a short breath.

"It's beautiful,", he said, trying to sound like a prospective buyer.

"I don't suppose I could hold it?", George asked, very innocently (part of him honestly wanting, no, itching to hold it again, part of him wanting to grab it and run).

"I'm afraid not, sir,", said the host.

'Figures', thought Donna.

"Could I see the Sergeant?", said George immediately, sounding more like a statement than a question.

This shocked the man.

"I'm sorry, sir, but the Sergeant-", the man started to make up an excuse.

"I want this item. Right away,", said George very bluntly.

"Yes, sir,", said the man, rather taken aback, frowning a little.

"Wait here,", he said, leaving them and starting to wind back out of the maze.

As soon as he was far enough away, the Doctor starting rapidly whispering to them.

"Lads, don't forget your accents! I almost heard some Scouse just then, George,", the Doctor scolded.

"Sorry, Doctor, I just got excited,", said George.

"It's okay, but just think James Cagney. That goes for you, too, Ringo, Paul. And John; in the future... Shut up.".

"Well that's Mimi's chair, and I'm not 'aving them lay their filthy 'ands on it and put it behind glass like this! It belongs in her parlor at home, right next to the window, next' the radio,", said John, anger boiling in his voice.

"Well 'ow do ya think I bloody feel, seeing the couch that I 'aven't even bleedin' bought yet sitting there, with the blanket off me bed right there on it!", exclaimed Paul, flustered.

All the while Ringo was examining another display, labeled "Ringo's Records.". The drummer was past any emotions of anger. He didn't know what he was besides sick.

There sat half his record collection, his favorite Shirelles LP and all. He started heaving heavy breaths. Silent tears started pooling in his eyes before he could force them to stop. Donna laid a hand on his shoulder.

"It's all right. We'll get it all back. I dunno how, but we will.".

Ringo sniffed, forcing himself to turn away.

"All right boys, the turned-up collars and the hair haven't been enough. He recognizes you. Be prepared for anything,", the Doctor barely got the hushed words out of his mouth before there reappeared their host and a man of very large stature.

"Here's the young gentleman, your excellency,", said the host, grovelling.

"Hmm,", said the man simply.

Everyone was too busy gawking at him to notice that he had barely said a word. He was... Well, huge. He was wearing an a bright yellow suit the size of a tent, ascot of red, the size of a tablecloth. He wasn't excatly fat, but he was about 7 foot 5 inches.

As soon as George regained himself (which was quicker than the rest of them), he spoke up.

"You see, mister, I want to be straight with you,", started George.

The Doctor swallowed. George was just free-styling now. The Doctor had no idea what he was going to say.

"I'm George Harrison,", he said, turning down his collar and flopping his hair back over his forehead. "And that's my guitar. And that's my friend's records, and another friend's auntie's chair, and another friend's couch-to-be and blanket. I'd like to have them back, if you'd please. I'll pay you, if we must do it that way. I'll pay you even more for your people to leave us all alone.".

The man considered this. George was tilting his head back in the extreme to look the man in the eye.

The Doctor was screaming internally.

George. Dear, sweet, honest, innocent, peace-loving, straightfoward, lovely George. He had just blown everything.

 _A/N; Poor George! What will they do to get out of this one?!_

 _Hope you guys liked it! Please let me know what you think!_


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N; I just want to take a quick moment to thank everyone who has stuck with this story. I know this is a very busy time of the year, and I can't tell you how deeply it touches me to know that someone takes time out of their busy life to read my updates. So thank a million everyone, and I hope you enjoy this chapter! :)_

"I can't believe you bloody said that!", said a frustrated John as they walked back through the streets of Montezuma 5.

"Well, what would you have done, John, given him ten bleeding million pounds for your own bloody guitar?", defended George.

"You thought he'd just 'and it back to you if you asked 'im nicely?", said Paul, almost as mad as John.

"I offered to pay him!", said George, getting weary of defending himself.

"With what, the Royal Treasury?", said John.

"Sod off, John!", George retorted.

The Doctor was in the lead, twirling the string of the TARDIS key on his finger, trying to pretend he didn't know the rest of them as he led the way through the busy bazaar to the TARDIS.

"Oh, shut up, all of you!", said Donna, getting tired of their fussing. "You're acting stupid. Did you think this was going to be easy? We went into this with no clue. Now at least we've got a start.".

"Well this might 'ave been the finish of it too if Geo Rockefeller 'ere hadn't offered to pay money for stuff that's already bleeding OURS!", returned John, red in the face.

"A minute ago you were just saying he wasn't just going to hand it to me!", shouted George on the defense.

"ALL RIGHT!", bellowed Ringo. Everyone shut up automatically.

Donna was shocked. She had never been a witness to a bellow by Ringo in her life. He didn't appear to enjoy it at all, but it served its purpose. There was finally silence.

A frustrated TARDIS team stepped back into the box.

"All right, fellows, we've got to come up with a plan...", said the Doctor, mussing up his hair, his brown eyes staring intensely off into space (no pun intended).

"Well, what is it? He told us to go get stuff we want to trade...", said George, with a note of hopelessness in his voice.

"We don't have anything that we can trade that would equal that amount!", said Paul.

Ringo was not participating in the conversation at all. He had plopped down on the bench seat and started staring off into his own world. Donna sensed that something was wrong. As the other boys were debating, she approached him.

"Anything wrong, Rings?".

"I can't believe what he said to me. But he... He didn't say, he just,", Ringo started rambling, and then a tear started to form in his eye.

Donna was immediately alarmed.

"Come with me,", she said, leading him out of the room and down long hallways until they were far enough away as to not be heard.

"What's wrong, Ringo?", she asked.

Suddenly, there were tears flooding down Ringo's cheeks. It was a heart-wrenching sight. Donna couldn't bear it. It was like seeing a rainbow die, or a puppy suffer. She hugged him.

"It's all right,", said Donna, trying to console him. "What happened, Ringo?", she asked again.

"He got inside me mind,", Ringo said, battling to regain his dignity, wiping his eye on his sleeve.

"What do you mean?".

"The Sergeant, he got inside me mind, and he showed me...", Ringo started to cry again.

"What did he show you?", she asked.

"The future. They're all going to leave me and get another drummer,", he cried. "And George's going to take my girlfriend,", Ringo, it all flooding out at once.

Donna was thoroughly confused. None of that happens to Ringo.

"Ringo, what are you talking about? How did he show you this?", said Donna, determined to get to the bottom of this.

"I dunno, he just got inside my mind, like, like telepathy, or whatever. Why didn't you warn me about it all, Donna? Why?!", he started crying into her sleeve. Donna's heart felt like it had just shattered into a million pieces.

"Ringo,", she said, trying to help him. "I know it must have been terrifying, having him in your mind, telling you things. But they're not true, Ringo. They're really not.".

Ringo stepped back from her. He looked her up and down like she was a totally different person than before.

"Are you sure? You're not just telling me because you're not supposed to tell me my future?".

"No, Ringo. I-, well, I'm going to tell you something. Don't tell the others, or the Doctor. But-", she said cupping her hand to whisper in his ear.

"You're going to be the greatest. They'll never get rid of you. They're your best friends. They love you. And your girlfriend does too. And, well...".

"Yeah?", he said, hope filling his big blue eyes.

She almost said 'you're going to get married to Maureen', but then before she even did she felt like she had just committed one of the seven deadly sins.

"George'd never do that do you, he loves you like a brother. Maureen does, too,", Donna stopped when she saw Ringo was on the brink of laughter.

"I hope not,", he said, commenting on Maureen.

"Oh, I mean- oh, well,", laughed Donna, realizing what she had said.

"So you're cheating and telling me that none of that is actually going to happen?", said Ringo, hope teeming over in his eyes.

"Well... Yeah,", said Donna, thinking it would be unfair to leave him uncertain.

Ringo then whooped and hollered, smiling again.

"There's Rings!", said Donna, happy again.

"Now we've got to help the others,", said Ringo.

"Why?".

"Because I think the same thing is happening to them.".

They turned a corner to reveal the Doctor trying to referee an fight between George, Paul and John.

"You're going to throw me out of the group, aren't you?!", demanded George, charging John.

"No, George, I don't know what you're on about!", said John, dodging him.

"Yes, you do, you've all been planning it, he told me so!".

"Why would we do that? You're the ones that are going to fix it where I'll get thrown off the next tour! And you,", he said, jabbing an angry finger in the air at Ringo, who had just reentered the ring.

"You filthy, rotten, stinking, rank-".

"Wha'd I do?!", said Ringo, now trying to get away from a livid John.

"You're going to take away my wife!", he said, not making any sense, but obviously angry and confused. Mostly angry.

"What the hell are you talking about?!", said Ringo, confusion in his eyes.

"Get after him! He accused you, and he's going to take my girlfriend away from me!", said Paul, pointing at Ringo.

"Shut up, you sod! You're the one that's going to take Pattie!", shouted George at Paul, shoving him against the railing.

"What?! I don't want your girl!", said Paul, hurt by the accusation.

"I thought you were my friend, you no-good-", John started at Ringo again.

"HOLD IT!", shouted the Doctor , running into the middle of the console, extending his arms to the sides to block them from running at eachother.

"Now one at a time,", said the Doctor in a more controlled tone. "Explain what it is that you're all fighting over.".

There was a second of silence, and then they all started yammering at the same time.

"HOLD IT!", the Doctor repeated, waving his arms wildly.

"One. At. A. Time.", he said.

The boys sighed. John went first.

"I know what's going to happen in the future. They're going to fix it to where I get thrown off the next tour, and, and Ringo's gonna take Cyn away.". There was an odd twinge in John's voice, as if he just then realized what he was saying.

Then Ringo spoke.

"They're going to replace me with Jimmy Nickel for good now. And George's gonna take Maureen.".

Ringo seemed to be upset all over again, as if his and Donna's conversation had never happened. This concerned Donna even more.

"They're going to get rid of me because they want someone who writes better songs. And George is going to take Jane away from me,", said Paul, quaking with anger.

The very notion grieved George visibly.

"And George?", said the Doctor.

"Well, they're going to get a better guitar player, some bloke from London, and Pattie's going to leave me for Paul.".

"Ah ha,", said the Doctor, and started fiddling with his screwdriver.

"Open wide,", he said, approaching John with his screwdriver. John looked skeptical, but then the Doctor gave him a look, and then he complied. The Doctor bleeped inside his mouth and made a discovery.

"Just as I thought. Paranoia hypnosis induced through a telepathic field. Hell of a sloppy job, though. Pretty transparent when you see all the same irrational fears programmed into all of you all of a sudden. Step out of the room, Donna,", said the Doctor.

Then all four of them started struggling to hold back tears. Donna was thoroughly confused.

"Ringo,", she said, stepping up to him. "Don't you remember what we just talked about?".

"What are YOU talking about, Donna?", he shot back, getting quite defensive. There was something in his eyes that scared Donna; it's as if the Ringo she knew was not residing behind them anymore. He didn't remember at all.

"Paul,", she said, stepping up to the bass player, who was in no better shape.

"Just leave me alone, Donna,", he said, sinking down onto the bench seat, covering his face with his hands.

Donna turned to the Doctor.

"No use trying to reason with them. It won't work until the hypnosis is broken. They're not themselves,", he said. "Leave the room, please,", he said to her, ushering her out.

Donna obeyed, though she didn't really understand why she had to.

The Doctor made some adjustments on the console before hitting a button and bounding out of the room right behind Donna.

"3, 2, 1,", the Doctor counted to himself.

*WOOSH!*

There came a bright flash of light from behind them.

"Doctor, what's going on?", said Donna, quite upset by the whole episode.

"Oh, just a little marketing ploy. They'll be fine now,", said the Doctor, now guiding his companion back into the console room.

They found four lads sprattled out on the floor.

"All right, lads?", said the Doctor, hopping back up to his controls.

"Oh, my head,", they all seemed to moan in unison, waking up slowly and picking themselves up off the floor.

"C-cor... What happened?", said John, rubbing his eyes.

"Oh, you were all going at eachother because the Sergeant hypnotized you. I just gave you a little shot of radiation. You're fixed now,", said the Doctor frankly.

"Going at eachother? Why?", said George, trying to get up. Paul and John came over and helped him up.

"You don't remember? It was dreadful! Like cats and dogs!", said Donna.

Then, like a bolt of lightning, it hit them all.

"Oh, my God...", they all said in unison.

Then they all went round apologizing to eachother for a good many moments.

"I don't know what came over me, mate,", said George to Paul.

"It's all right, mate. And there isn't a better guitar player in London or anywhere else,", said Paul, smiling at his mate.

George bit his lip and simply smiled back.

"Hey!", said John playfully, overhearing. "Take it back, you bum!", said John, shoving Paul around, and then they all started wrestling on the floor.

Once they finally broke it up and settled down, Donna only had one thing to say.

"He tried to play off two of the three things you care about most in the world; your music and your respective girlfriends. But he forgot the most important thing.".

"What's that?", they all asked.

"That you care about eachother, of course, you nitwits!", Donna laughed.

Then they all started fake-crying and going round patting eachother's backs, saying "I love you, man". The Doctor and Donna laughed.

"All right, now that we've got that smoothed over...", said the Doctor, plopping down on the bench seat and starting to gnaw on his thumbnail.

"But Doctor, why did he do that to us?", asked Ringo.

"Oh sorry, I thought you'd already guessed. If he broke you up now, the pieces he has from your future would increase in value exponentially, because they would be from an alternate timeband. Many items that were mass-produced would then be one of a kind, his copies carefully tucked away in his time-locked facility. Very basic procedure for him. Does that sort of thing all the time.".

"Whad'you mean, timelocked?", asked Donna.

"Well, he has special, very complicated equipment in his showroom. When things in the real world are altered, things that would never even come into existence then, like for example, albums from you boys' future, they are erased from all of time. Unless they are stored in such a facility that blocks the laws of time from carrying out their basic tasks. That's also why the TARDIS can't even be brought near it. It would render it completely useless,", said the Doctor, heaving a discouraged sigh at his last sentence.

There were several moments of silence and consideration.

"So what do we do now? Scrounge and scrimp together anything we can find to trade?", said Paul.

"Wait,", said John.

"What?" they all said.

"He won't be expecting us to come back. He thinks he's broken us up. We don't have to bring anything back at all.".

"Yeah,", said George, the same idea forming in his mind. "Doctor, is there a back way in to the place?".

"Well, yeah, I guess,", said the Doctor, thinking. "We could try getting in in the daytime.".

"We don't want to go in the day when anyone's there,", said George.

"The place is packed all night long. We'll have more of a chance in the day.".

"I thought we just went in the day?", asked George.

"No. That was night. The sun never sets on Montezuma 5.".

"Hmm,", said George.

"But how are we gonna carry things like Mimi's chair all the way back to the TARDIS if you can't get inside the gallery with it?", asked Ringo.

"Well, the most important thing is the guitar,", said Paul. He felt a bit guilty about taking back a sofa that he hadn't even bought yet.

"Hey, Macca, my Aunt Mimi is getting her chair back, whether you scrubs help me or not!", said John.

"Right, lads,", said the Doctor. "Let's plan this out.".

After much debating, they had a plan. They were going to have to be quick as the wind, silent as the grave, and clever as... Well, whatever's clever.

"All right, boys, are we ready?", said the Doctor, getting ready to disembark the TARDIS.

"Let's go over it boys,", said Paul. "I'll help John get Aunt Mimi's chair, Ringo'll get his records, and George'll grab the guitar, the Doctor'll get my blanket, and Donna'll keep watch.".

"I feel like it's stupid to expect for a group of six to sneak in and out unnoticed,", mused Donna.

"Always finding the gray cloud to every silver lining, Donnie,", said John, giggling.

"Whatever, but I think it's a daft plan!".

"They're not expecting us, love. That's our edge,", reminded John in a silly, patronizing tone.

"It's a dull one,", Donna retorted. John just rolled his eyes.

"Yes, sir.".

Donna ignored him.

In a few moments, the TARDIS was in position, and everyone has being briefed on what they would be up against.

"... And if we get caught...", said the Doctor, now trying not to make eye contact with his friends.

"What?", they all asked.

"Say your prayers.".

Gulps then resounded in chorus.

 _A/N; Hope you guys liked it! As always, PLLEASE let me know what you think in the reviews, it's very important to me. I'm in a bit of a rut with this story, and I need some constructive criticism or something to get me out of it. Thanks! :)_


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N; Hey people! I'm back a day early. Guess what? I've finished the story. :D I know how it ends, but you people will just have to wait and see, won't you? *cackles maniacally* Okay, I'll shut up and let you read because this is the big moment. Enjoy :)_

The TARDIS had been parked in the tunnel they had been in earlier above the sewer. The Doctor parked it in the dark, and set a strong perception filter on it so it could slip under the radar of any scanning security equipment. The TARDIS was feeling a bit sick, lurching and groaning, being in such close proximity to the timelocked field inside the Pit. The Doctor hoped that no one would notice it, though he had his reasons for worrying. He did not share his concerns with the others. He didn't want them fussing over the TARDIS while they had a job to do. "She'll be fine", he thought to himself as he locked her up.

The Doctor gave his beloved machine a backward glance as he led the group onwards.

"It's all dark now,", said Paul very softly as he looked both ways up and down the tunnel, all gaslights extinguished. The Doctor wasn't daring to use his screwdriver for light. He was relying on his Time Lord vision to lead them.

"Creepy, isn't it?", said John, trying to tease all of them.

Suddenly Donna felt a tingling on the back of her neck. She swatted it away. Then it came again, twitching and crawling up her neck to her hairline.

"BAH!", she screamed involuntarily, running up on the Doctor, turning him around and using him as a shield against whatever unseen creepy-crawly had been harassing her.

John then giggled uncontrollably. He definitely had not been tickling the back of her neck.

"John!", started Donna with anger, realizing his guilt.

"Shut up, the lot of you!", exclaimed the Doctor very softly.

"But it was him,", whined Donna.

"John, for God's sake, behave yourself. Donna, ignore him, and if I hear a peep 'out the rest of you...", said the Doctor in his sternest whisper.

It then occurred to the Doctor. He should have started a babysitting service instead of becoming a super-genius, planet-saving traveller of time and space. Or maybe he'd done both already...

After several minutes of walking, the Doctor stopped them.

"Right, lads. Help me, here,", he said, now using his screwdriver on a piece of paving stone on the floor. He traced the edges of it for a while before he heard it shift. It was loose.

"All right, fellows,", he said.

With all six of them hauling on it, they eventually had it moved off the floor and out of the way.

"Right, let's go,", said the Doctor, holding his screwdriver between his teeth.

There was now a gaping chasm in the floor. It was a considerable drop down to the filthy floor beneath.

"Ladder?", said John, looking at it skeptically.

The Doctor shook his head.

John bit his lip.

The Doctor was the first to take the plunge.

*Oof*

They all helped eachother down after that.

Then, after they were all down below the floor, the Doctor started to lead them through.

"Gallery should be straight ahead,", he said to himself, scanning around with his screwdriver.

They walked for what seemed like forever. It was yet another narrow passageway. Donna felt cramped. The air was uncomfortably warm.

"Hot, isn't it?", came Ringo's voice out of the darkness.

"Yeah,", they all agreed.

"We should be coming to the under gallery about now,", said the Doctor, bleeping with his screwdriver. "And let's keep eyes front, all right?", said the Doctor.

"You mean don't look at stuff from our future?", said George.

"Yeah.".

"Well how d'we know if it's from our past, present or future unless we look at it?", said Paul jokingly.

"Don't. Just... Don't,", said the Doctor, though knowing that they would.

"It's a wonder you just being here hasn't blown a hole in the universe already,", he added, mostly to himself.

This made the boys consider for a moment that perhaps they should behave. But then they decided against it.

As they went on, the passageway got narrower. That was probably due to the fact that it was almost completely stuffed full of... Stuff.

The Doctor tried to keep them in the dark for as long as possible by turning off his screwdriver, but before long, there were gas lamps hanging from the ceiling that dimly lit the area. The Doctor tried to hurry them along. They didn't see much, thankfully. But John did see one thing.

"Who's that, then?", he said, seeing a picture of a lady with a small face, dark eyes, and long black hair.

The Doctor turned. His jaw dropped for a moment before he regained himself.

"She's... No one, John, no one, now come on,", said the Doctor.

"Hey, I get my beard back!", exclaimed Ringo, seeing a picture of himself from about 7 years in his future.

The Doctor then got behind them and started herding them quickly. He couldn't afford a paradox right now.

Pretty soon, they came to an octagon-shaped room at the end of the passage.

"Here we are, people,", said the Doctor. The ceiling was now pretty low, so he just reached up with his hands and felt around on the ceiling until he found a weak spot. He gave it a good shove.

The ceiling popped off.

The rest of the group helped him push the piece of ceiling to the side of the opening.

In moments, they were standing in the room with George's guitar, Paul's blanket, Ringo's records and John's Aunt Mimi's armchair.

"Hurry, lads,", said the Doctor, sonicing the locking mechanism on each case holding the boy's things. "I've got a bad feeling about this,", he said, looking around antsily.

Donna stood at the opening of the room, keeping watch. It was quite eerie. There were little glowing lamps sitting on the floor at intervals on the path out of the place. They weren't very bright, just bright enough to light the floor, not bright enough to see if anyone was coming, and if you could see them coming by the light, it would be too late.

"Doctor,", said Paul, straining under the weight of the fine-quality chair. "How're we going to get this junk down and back up out of the under gallery?".

"One thing at a time, my boy, one thing at a time,", said the Doctor, giving Paul a pat on the shoulder as he started over to collect Paul's bedspread. It took him a few seconds to realize; he sounded exactly like an younger version of himself just then. He really was aging in reverse, if you go by outward appearances. When he was young, he had white hair and a granddaughter, wore waistcoats and cravats, and spoke in a paternal tone. Now that he was old, he wore tight suits, looked young and hung out with hippies. Hmm. Mid-life crisis?

Suddenly, Donna's breath caught in her throat.

A bead a sweat formed on her brow.

She heard footsteps.

Then she saw the shadows of feet making their way along the trail, passing in front of the footlights on the floor.

"D-Doc-de-de-Doc,", she stammered, shaking and tugging on the Doctor's sleeve.

"What is it, Donna?", he said, helping Ringo and taking an armload of records.

Just then, all the lights came on.

Ringo dropped his records.

John nearly dropped the chair on Paul.

George's heart was pounding, though he kept a white-knuckle grip on his guitar.

"Hello again, chaps,", said the Sergeant, towering over them. He had an unusually deep voice.

"You should have called first, you know. I would have came and turned the lights on for you,", he added deviously.

He looked about like one would expect Al Capone to look if he had taken a miracle growth pill.

"Don't bother running. I knew you were here as soon as you landed that... Oh, what do you call, it Doctor?", he said, pretending to search for the word. "Your TARDIS. Anyhow, the security system is up now. And unless you want to get electrocuted and/or blown up, I suggest you stay put and put these items down,", he said, taking the last record out of Ringo's hands and putting it back on display.

Ringo could be heard growling under his breath, though he tried to keep it to a minimum for fear of what too much of an outburst would earn him.

"Why, dear boy, do you harbor such animosity towards me? I'm the one who told you what was going to happen in your future, tried to save you the pain, the humiliation,", the Sergeant carried on, much to the infuriation Ringo's friends.

"You shut up!", shouted Donna, no longer able to hold in her anger. "Who do you think you are, anyway? Getting inside their minds like that, trying to ruin their lives just so you could, could, gain a few extra pounds!", shouted Donna, choosing her words this way on purpose, then looking haughtily at the man's stature. The Doctor nearly laughed out loud when the Sergeant gave an extremely indignant expression.

"For your information, young lady, we do not keep such a worthless currency as the ancient Great Britain Pound in this state,", he said, sniffing.

"Oh, so you pay for things with lies and cheap hypnotism?", shot Donna.

"So... Back to the point. What options are you leaving us?", the Doctor broke in, giving Donna a look.

"Oh, I'm glad you asked,", he said, snickering, fingering a fob watch chain dangling over his gut.

"Well, if you insist on taking these things, I can have you restrained this minute. Then you will be taken back to your homes,", he said mysteriously, knowing that this would pique the curiosity of the boys.

John squinted cynically and walked up to face the man squarely. "Then what? You'll kill us in the comfort of our homes?".

"Oh, no, dear boy, oh, no. There you will spend the rest of your lives under house arrest, doing my bidding, creating paradoxes, and destroying yourselves day by day.".

John could no longer meet the man's eye.

An ice-cold chill ran through the room and four spines.

"So what if we leave the stuff?", asked the Doctor, unshaken, searching the eyes of the Sergeant, looking as though he were trying and succeeding in reading his mind.

"Then, my friends, you shall experience my generosity. As much as I would like to make you a part of the fixtures around you,", he said, nodding to the displays. Donna shivered. "I know, given a chance, you will run. And if you happen to run, which you will, you will have to run through my security system. A bold and courageous move it would be, indeed, for none have ever escaped it alive, or in one piece.".

This evoked several moments of thought among all of them, one of them trying to think of a way out besides either of these two options, one praying and telling herself to have faith in usual abundance of the Doctor's last-second life-saving plans, and the other four contemplating their demise.

"And what's option three?", said the Doctor at length.

"I'm afraid there isn't one, Time Lord. If you don't chose lifelong probation, this is the end for all of you.".

There was hardly a second of silence before the Doctor spoke again, this time with inexplicable rage in his voice.

"What have you done with her?".

"Whom are you referring to, Doctor?", the Sergeant snickered, pulling out his pipe.

"The TARDIS. What have you done with her?", he said, breathing heavily through clenched teeth, his eyes expanded to double size.

"Oh, you knew what would happen when you parked it there. And even if it weren't for the all-seeing eyes of my employees, the ghastly sounds it was making were enough to alert anyone to its presence, the noisy little contraption...", he said, trailing off, taking the first puff out of his pipe. "And you might want to remember that perception fields cannot hold up in my facility, especially when all that's supporting them is a little sonic screwdriver, which can't send a signal in a timelocked field to a timelock-intolerant little piece of outdated Gallifreyan technology.".

The Doctor just stood there for a moment.

"Last TARDIS in existence, owned by the last Time Lord in existence. Hmm, I wonder how much that will bring,", he cackled, taunting the Doctor.

"The TARDIS is for sale, Doctor,", snickered the Sergeant. "You'll never see it again.".

The Doctor then was uncontrollable. He fearlessly sprang up and suddenly seemed to tower over the Sergeant, looking at him through eyes that would put the fear of God in a demon.

"I would say something as shallow as 'you'll pay for this', but I don't have to. When I'm done with you, you will have been paying all you life by now, and you'll be paying now, and for the rest of your life, if I'm feeling that generous,", he snarled.

For a moment Donna thought she was going to pass out.

No TARDIS.

No way home.

Trapped on strange planet with psycho con artist.

She was called out of her despair by the pulling of her arm by the Doctor. Before she knew anything, she and the Doctor were back down in the undergallery, the boys following.

"We'll be seeing you soon, Sergeant,", said Paul as they exited.

"Oh, I hope not, dear boy, I plan on having a long life,", he cackled. The eerie sound echoed throughout the octagon-shaped room and the undergallery, and faded as the Sergeant walked away.

 _A/N; Oh dear Lord what's going to happen to them next?! I know. You don't. *giggles to reader's irritation* I have a Moffatt-ish evil streak in me._

 _Let me know, am I the only one who is excited about how this story is playing out? I hope I'm not. Reviews please :)_

 _Peacelove friends :)_


	15. Chapter 15

_A/N; I'm back. Here's another chapter, hope you like it :)_

They were running now. Running fast. In a single file line, because that's the only way they could fit through the undergallery.

As soon as they reached the end of the stockpiled stuff, they started to try to spread out a little.

They were picking up some serious speed until the Doctor shouted "STOP!", and extended his arms to the side, catching George and Ringo.

"Landmines active.".

"What?", they all echoed.

"Dissolving landmines. Once you step on them, they blow up, but the explosion only lasts long enough to blow you up. Then the rest of the impact is re-absorbed by the mine.".

"Cor,", said Paul.

"Yeah. Cor,", said John, now looking with new suspicion at the floor.

"Allows them to be used indoors, you see,", explained the Doctor. "They blow you up, but it doesn't damage anything else.".

"There's got to be a way through this,", said Ringo. "Whad'we do, throw something across the floor to blow them up and then we can walk across afterwards?".

"Ah, clever Ringo,", said the Doctor.

"Yeah, gear, Rings,", they all said, searching to find anything from the undergallery behind them to throw before them to clear the way.

"But not quite that simple,", added the Doctor.

Everyone moaned.

"Some need to be tapped twice or more times to be activated. Others can blow two or three times, or unlimited times.".

There was a long and discouraged silence.

"Well how are we going to get out?", asked Paul at length, voicing all their thoughts at once.

The Doctor heaved a sigh.

"If we're going to die, I want to be the first one,", said George, starting to take a step forward.

"NO!", said the Doctor, hauling him back.

"This is all my fault, Doctor,", said George, his load of guilt showing in his face.

"Nonsense, George. Now step back and help us think of a how to get out of this,", said the Doctor.

George stepped back reluctantly.

"There's got to be another way out,", said Donna, looking around at the walls and ceiling.

"OH!", she exclaimed.

"What?", they all said.

"What if we go up through the ceiling here?", said Donna, squinting at the large, dirty slabs of rock on the ceiling.

"We'd just end up back in the gallery with the Sergeant,", said the Doctor.

Donna was discouraged.

Then, the Doctor suddenly looked hopeful. He walked over to the wall to his left and pressed his ear to the wall, listening. Then he started stomping and hopping up and down on the floor. Then he started cackling with glee.

"What's 'e doing?", whispered Paul to John.

"I dunno,", John whispered back.

"I think he's lost it,", added Ringo.

"Lads and Donna, hold your noses,", said the Doctor.

"What?", they all echoed.

The Doctor whipped out his sonic screwdriver and started sonicing the wall. The screwdriver was making a low, intense buzzing noise, different from its usual.

"What 'you doing, Doctor?", asked Paul.

"Shh!", he tutted, putting his finger to his lips, but still not turning to them.

Soon, a terrible smell filled the corridor.

"It's that smell again!", said John, fanning the air.

"Stand back!", said the Doctor, suddenly, springing from the wall and back the hall, covering his head, taking Ringo and Donna with him.

*BOOM!*

*Fizzle, fizzle, fizzle*

It took several moments for the noises to die down.

"HA!", said the Doctor with satisfaction.

"What happened?", said Donna.

"The sewage line runs just next to this wall. I blew the pipe joint with my screwdriver. The moisture blew the switchboard powering the security system!", he cried triumphantly.

"So what now?", said the others.

"We run,", said the Doctor, taking a suddenly wary glance behind them before taking off like a shot.

The others looked round, too, and after seeing an enormous, furry, growling thing running towards them, they followed suit with the Doctor.

The were running, and running, and running for what seemed like forever. The thing was gaining on them.

"What is it?!", shouted George breathlessly.

"A genetic mutation!", replied the Doctor. None of them had the air or the interest at that moment to ask him to elaborate. They were just running.

Donna's heart was pounding in her ears. Her feet were pounding on the ground, her arms moving in powerful strokes. Thoughts were rushing in and out her head like a waterfall. One moment she was thinking about how they were going to get out of this, the next she was thinking about her family, the next moment she was thinking about whether or not she had left the gas on on the stove, the next she resolved that her mum always checked that before bed anyway, the next she heard a roar coming from behind her, and then she started thinking about the monster, whatever it was. And possibly... Death.

They finally reached the opening in the ceiling that they had come in through. She, Paul, and Ringo immediately jumped and grabbed onto the rim of the opening, their feet swinging below them. They tried to hurry pulling themselves up, but it wasn't easy. They made it quickly, then lowered their arms back down to help the remaining three up.

Suddenly, Donna heard what she desperately had not wanted to hear. A ghastly scream of anguish.

She had just finished helping George up to where she was when she looked to see Ringo clinging to the arms of John, who had been the one screaming. Both were being pulled back down into the hole by the 'what is it'. It was dark, so it was rather hard for Donna to see, but she thought that the thing had John's leg in its mouth.

John wailed again, and Donna could hardly stand it. Ringo was slipping down into the hole when Donna and Paul flew to his sides, bracing him.

"Hold on, John!", exclaimed Paul.

John didn't look to good, sweat rolling down forehead, his face contorted in anguish. Donna then knew at that moment - this wasn't going to end well.

The struggle between the 'what is it' and the TARDIS team continued for several more seconds before Donna broke away from the group holding Ringo who was trying to pull John up.

"What are you doing Donna?!", shouted Ringo as he slipped further down into the hole at the sudden absence of her help.

Donna searched her pockets frantically. Then she found it.

She brought it out of her pocket, gave it her best aim, and pushed the button.

The sonic matchbox made a terrific noise, reverberating throughout the entire corridor, shaking everyone's insides.

The creature who was detaining John then let out a terrible wail, the vibrations concentrated on him.

"PULL, LADS!", said the Doctor, and in a second, John was lying on the floor of the corridor, and the other lads were pulling the paving stone back over the opening with haste while the creature was still stunned.

Donna immediately flew to John, who was lying flat on his back, his arms limp at his sides. He was heaving heavy breaths.

"How bad is it?", he eventually managed.

Donna was no doctor, but she knew it wasn't good. His right calf and shin were quite bloody, and that's all she could tell.

John watched her dismayed and slightly pale expression with dread.

"Doctor! Doctor come here,", said Donna. John was not comforted by the fact that Donna didn't have the heart to answer him.

The Doctor came as fast as he could.

"John, you okay?", he said, starting to scan his leg with his screwdriver.

"Of course I'm bloody not!", he exclaimed, but not with his usual conviction. He sounded quite scared.

"Well, John,", said the Doctor after several moments of examination.

"What?", said John, sounding drained.

"It's just a couple of flesh wounds. Big, but just flesh wounds. You'll be fine if we can get you back to the TAR-.".

Everyone stopped.

"Well, will I be fine without the TARDIS?", asked John at length.

"Yeah,", said the Doctor with the tone in his voice that made the others wonder if he was really sincere.

"Come on, lads,", he said, starting to haul on John's left arm. "Let's lift him up.".

"What? I can walk!", said John, struggling a little, not liking the thought of being carried at all.

"Nope. The location of the wounds... If you walk, the muscle movement will likely tear the wounds further open, and that would probably provoke the bleeding again...", said the Doctor.

"Again? I thought I was bleeding now!", said John grouchily, struggling to hold his head up to see his leg.

In a moment, the Doctor had John's left arm lopped over his shoulder, Paul had his right, and Ringo had his left leg, the crook of John's bent knee resting limply on his shoulder. Donna and George held his right leg out stick-straight at the bidding of the Doctor.

They were all just following the direction of the Doctor, really having no idea where they were supposed to be going. There was no way out of this world without the TARDIS.

"Doctor,", said Donna. "Where are we going?".

"Shh!", he replied harshly.

Donna pursed her lips.

Eventually, they came to the manhole they had entered through before. The Doctor stopped and kicked at the cover with his shoe.

George bent down with one hand and lifted the cover off, uncovering the stench that was below them.

"We've got to go this way?", groaned John, who only knew what was happening by listening and smelling.

No one answered him.

After considerable struggling, they had carried John through the waist-high waters of the sewer, and had emerged back out onto the city street.

The sight of a human being carried through the street, the leg of his pants saturated in blood, was apparently disturbing to the merchants. Some stared, some called out things at the group that no one besides the Doctor could understand without the TARDIS translator, and a few wept.

The Doctor approached one merchant who looked rather like an insect with green, protruding eyes. He started talking to him in a language that the rest of the group could not understand.

The merchant replied to the Doctor in a raspy voice, motioning back and forth between John and the others.

The Doctor then looked as though he were insisting on something, raising his eyebrows and speaking in a more pronounced tone.

The merchant shrugged, and then started pointing down the road and motioning his hands all around.

Donna was starting to get concerned. She didn't know what was going on, and John's leg still seemed to be bleeding quite a bit. She didn't feel like now was the time to stand around and chat, but she didn't know what was being said, so she found it best to stay quiet for a bit.

Just then, John let out a cry.

"What is it?", said Donna, looking back up towards his head, though his head was dangling backwards towards to ground.

"It's nothing,", said John, trying to dismiss it.

This seemed to hurry the Doctor up.

"'Mon, lads,", he said, taking up John's arm again and rushing them down the street.

"What are we doing, Doctor?".

"We're taking the train.".

"The train? Shouldn't we go to the hospital?", said Donna.

"They can't treat him on this planet. Their medicine'll kill him,", said the Doctor.

"Bloody brilliant,", muttered John.

"So what good's a train going to do us?!", exclaimed Ringo.

"We're taking the train to Midnight.".

 _A/N; Ahhh we're going to Midnight. And yes, it is 'the' Midnight that you're all thinking of from DW. One of my favorite episodes, actually (which may or may not have been influenced by the fact that Colin Morgan {MERLIN!} was in it. I used to be so into the whole Merlin thing. You don't even know. I saw every single episode at least twice, and I had 2 huge posters of Colin and Bradley and all of them in their medieval attire on my wall)._

 _Anyhow, I hope you liked this chapter! PLEASE REVIEW! :)_


	16. Chapter 16

_A/N; Hello people. I've got another one for you. :) Hope you like it. PLEASE REVIEW!_

After a long and painful journey to the train station, the Doctor managed to somehow get them tickets. How, none of them were too sure. They were paying too much attention to John. He seemed to be in a lot of pain, but he refused to talk about it, so they couldn't be sure what was happening to him. The other three Liverpool boys were quite shaken up by this.

As they were hurrying him through what seemed a lot like an underground station, Donna asked the Doctor the question that was on her mind.

"You know what's wrong with him. What's happening to him?", she asked.

The Doctor hesitated, looking at John and the rest of them with pain in his eyes.

"Well?", demanded Donna.

"Foreign bacteria in the wound. Infection is setting in.".

"What are we going to do?", asked George.

"We're going to Midnight. They have human-compatible medicine there. If we had the TARDIS, I could just use-", the Doctor was interrupted.

"We don't have it though,", Donna sternly reminded.

Once they were inside the train, they were escorted to the baggage hold. It seemed like any other train of the 20th century, leaving Donna wondering how indeed it was going to fly through outer space.

"Doctor, I thought you got us tickets?", said Donna.

"These are the only kind you can get without any money,", he said. "They admit free to the hold for medical emergencies like this.".

They sat for quite some time in total silence, John laid flat on the floor, looking quite uncomfortable, the rest of them perched on various articles of luggage.

"If anyone comes along, you three hide,", said the Doctor suddenly, motioning to the three healthy Beatles.

"What? Why?", said Paul.

"You're technically not supposed to be here. Medical patients are only allowed two attendants.".

Then, suddenly, the train jerked, and they started taking off.

They rode along for a long time in silence before John cried out, unable to contain himself. He buckled a little, his stomach muscles contracting.

A few seconds later, Donna happened to look over at George. He looked absolutely awful. Paul noticed this, too.

"All right, George?", he asked.

George would not meet any of their eyes. He stared straight forward, a blank expression on his face, a hollow look in his eyes.

"This is all my fault, John,", he said, addressing his friend.

"'S'all right, mate,", said John, trying to laugh.

"No it's not! Look at you!", said George, rising from his seat and starting to pace, flustered.

"'Ey, who else can a scrub like me take a bite for but his friends?", said John, laughing genuinely that time. Paul and Ringo joined him. This seemed to make George feel a little better.

"Hey, Doctor,", said Ringo. "How long is this flight gonna last?".

"About an hour,", said the Doctor, looking at his watch.

Ringo then heaved a long sigh before reaching into his pocket for his carton of cigarettes.

The next hour was spent singing songs, any songs that would come to their minds. It seemed to get John's mind off his leg, though he occasionally did cry out still.

Once they landed on Midnight, the Doctor quickly rushed them all off the train and ran the rest of the way through the terminal all the way out to an information desk. He asked a woman (with the face of a cat) for an ambulance, and they were all immediately transported to the hospital. It was rather small, and it was floating in the sky, and the nurses all had faces rather like sea-horses, but John barely noticed.

The rest of their stay on Midnight was a blur to Donna. They were there a few days; John was healed up and as good as new, and the rest of them got quite a lot of rest. The Doctor went out and made arrangements for travel, to where Donna didn't know. Donna had discerned that they were several thousand years in the future, so travel back to Earth would be pointless. She didn't know what was going to happen, but she just tried to stay calm for all of their sakes.

In the middle of the second day, the Doctor rushed into the ward where John was lying in bed and where the rest of them were sitting about.

"Hurry, lads!", he said, a very urgent look in his eyes.

"What? What's going on?", said Donna, called out her of daydream.

"We're getting out of here! Now!", he said, throwing the blankets off John and starting to pull him out of bed.

"Wh-what,", John stammered.

"No time to explain. We've got to take our chance, otherwise we might not get home!", said the Doctor frantically.

John stood up and went over to the cupboard where his normal clothes were (he was wearing a rather odd hospital gown, with shower curtain fabric-like sleeves, and it only came down a little past his knees {the back closed completely; a welcome change from the kind we Earthlings are familiar with}). The Doctor stopped him.

"No time!", the Doctor exclaimed.

"'Ey, I've got to get dressed,", said John.

"We'll miss it if we don't get on now! Allons-y!", said the Doctor, motioning for all of them to follow.

The Doctor led them around and around through winding corridors, all the way to the lift.

They made it all the way to the ground floor before hospital staff realized one of their patients was up and running away. The couldn't put up much of a fight, especially since the group had put on quite a bit of speed.

The Doctor "borrowed" a hovercraft parked outside the hospital, and they all barely fit in it. The Doctor took them on a white-knuckle ride to another high-rise structure floating in the sky.

"Where are we?", asked Donna, gawping at the building. It was a perfect, shiny white, the sunlight reflecting brightly off of it.

"Holiday Inn,", said the Doctor.

"You're kidding,", said Donna.

The Doctor smirked at her.

As soon as they were all out of the hovercraft, the Doctor led them hastily inside and straight to the lifts.

Inside their lift, there was a holographic screen to the side where the buttons would usually be.

"Room 2523,", said the Doctor hastily.

"Very good, sir,", replied the elevator.

They all kept waiting to feel the motion of the elevator, but they never did. In two seconds flat, the door opened, and there was 2523, right in front of them.

They didn't ask for any explanation: the boys were getting used to space-things. John especially. He was wearing a space-thing.

The Doctor sprinted up and wrapped on the door several times.

The door was eventually opened by a man of medium stature, rather pudgy, wearing a black and white pinstriped suit over a shirt and cargo pants. He wore a black band around his arm, and he had a mustache.

"Doctor, I'd nearly given up on you. Come in,", he said, motioning them in hastily.

After much cryptic conversation between the man (whose name was Giles, Donna gathered) and the Doctor, the Doctor asked them to all join hands.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this, Doctor?", asked Giles skeptically. "It could be dangerous...".

"Absolutely. Get us as close to September 1964 as you can. London, please. We don't have money for long-distance travel.".

The man was fiddling with a large, round piece of metal. In a moment, he motioned for them all to make a circle with joined hands. He put the piece of metal in the floor in the middle of them. Then, the thing started ticking, like a time-bomb.

"Good luck.".

The words were not quite completely out of Giles' mouth before all six of them were gone, never to return to Midnight (well, two of them would for a certain little train excursion).

All Donna could remember was an incredibly bright flash of light, and then she was lying on something cold and soft. It took a long time for her vision to clear. As soon as it did, she realized that she was lying on the ground, outdoors, her friends scattered about around her.

"Are we home?", she asked, after she regain her ability to speak.

No one answered her for a long time.

Eventually, they all got on their feet.

They were in the middle of Hyde Park. Snow was on the ground.

John was shivering. His gown did not have any thermal qualities whatsoever.

The Doctor then noticed a newspaper sitting on a nearby park bench, blowing a little in the frigid breeze. He snatched it.

"Oh no!", he cried.

"What?!".

"We're four months late!", he cried.

"You mean we've been gone four months?!", cried Paul, rushing forward, grabbing the paper from his friend.

He read the top of the paper;

 _The Daily Mail_

 _25th January, 1965_

He scanned along the front page until he came to an article that struck an even stronger chord with him.

 _4th Month of Lost Beatles_

 _Detective Inspector Mooney of Scotland Yard says that the police are still looking for the rock and roll foursome who disappeared in September of last year. Mooney and associates have been gathering evidence involving the Beatles case since the manager of the Beatles, Brian Epstien, called to report them missing._

 _"Every lead seems to come up dry in the end,", commented Mooney in a press conference earlier this week._

 _"The only clue we have is what little the receptionist at the recording studio gave us, about the appearance of the elusive Dr. Smith and his wife that I'm sure you've all heard about."._

 _When asked to elaborate on their progress in tracing the Dr. Smith lead, Mooney simply stated that "Dr. and Mrs. Smith, like the Beatles, vanished into thin air that day in September. We feel that the Smith's are almost certainly connected with this, but we are unsure how."._

 _When Epstein was interviewed, he told us this: "I was unaware that the Beatles were missing until I received a call at my office in Liverpool from George Martin, their studio producer, that they had left the recording booth for their break, and had not returned. That was a good many hours after the staff of the studio had seen them exit through the front door. At that point I started checking around, and I found that they had not returned to their homes, and they were not in any of the usual clubs or, or places where they like to spend time.". He also stated that it was very unlike the group to suddenly leave in the middle of their work. "When they're working on a record,", said George Martin, "they barely even stop to eat, and they never leave in the middle of the day."._

 _When members of the press were sent to gather comments from the families of the Beatles in November, the Harrison family of Liverpool commented that "they couldn't imagine what happened to their boy". Mrs. Harrison said "We pray for George and his friends every day and night, and we hope you'll do the same". Jim McCartney (father of Paul McCartney), Liverpool, said simply, "We want him to come home.". The Starkey family, Liverpool, stated "We don't know what to think. We can only hope that our dear Ritchie (Ringo) is still out there somewhere.". Relatives of John Lennon have refrained from commenting._

 _There has been speculation by the press and the public alike regarding the disappearance of the Fabulous Foursome, almost as intense as that involving the 1963 assassination of President Kennedy. Popular conspiracy theories include ideas that the spotlight became too much for the Liverpool lads, and they have retreated to an unknown location to retire. Others theorize that the Beatles were actually Russian spies for the Soviet Union, and they have now been called back behind the Iron Curtain._

 _Some have likened the sudden disappearance of the Beatles to the equally sudden and tragic deaths of rock and rollers Big Bopper, Ritchie Valens, and Buddy Holly in the infamous plane crash of 1959. Beatle records have continued to reign supreme on the charts, sales undoubtedly fueled by this new tragedy. Executives at Parlophone and Capitol Records in America say they "don't know how long this will last before memory of them (the Beatles) fades". Beatle manager Brian Epstein has refused to make any final arrangements regarding the fate of Beatle accounts despite urging from friends and colleagues. Epstein has also refused to allow the Beatles' work on what would have been their Fall 1964 album to be archived and abandoned by EMI._

 _Fans of the Beatles are starting a new tradition on Abbey Road. On the 28th of each month (the anniversary of the disappearance of their idols) they gather in front of EMI Studios, a large number of them weeping, some singing Beatle songs, others praying. They have taken to placing flowers and bouquets on the steps of the studio, so many that they often overflow into the street. Teenagers not based in London have taken to sending bouquets to be placed in the spot from all around the world, some coming from as far as America, Australia, and West Germany. EMI and the London Police have stated that this must stop, as the flowers and crowds block entrance to the studio and hinder traffic on Abbey Road._

 _One tearful fan of the group, Mary-Jane Cartwright of Wembley, gave us an interview on the 28th of last month at the gathering at Abbey Road (which was the largest yet, drawing a crowd of seventeen-hundred devoted fans and accumulating upwards of five-thousand flowers and bouquets, undoubtedly promoted by school holidays)._

 _"I just know they're still out there,", she sobbed. "I just can't live with the idea that they're gone.". When the notion was proposed that her idols might be deceased, she burst quite violently into a fit of tears, preventing her from commenting further._

 _When rock and roll contemporaries of the Beatles were interviewed, they expressed their concern and dismay. Mick Jagger of the Rolling Stones commented, "Yeah, they're real cool cats, and, and we miss them very much. We want them to come back, if they're able.". "The world won't be the same without their music,", added Keith Richards, also of the Rolling Stones. When Elvis Presley was asked in a recent interview if he was relieved that the Beatles were no longer in competition with his records in the charts, he denied this fervently. "No, no, they're nice young fellas, and they didn't deserve this, whatever actually did happened to them. God bless 'em, and help 'em, wherever they are now, and if they're not with us anymore, we can only pray to God for him to take care of 'em."._

 _Despite the hopes and prayers of many, Scotland Yard reports that on 28th March, by standard procedure, John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison, and Ringo Starr will be pronounced dead, that is, if they do not reappear. While many are hoping for miraculous news, Scotland Yard does not think the possibility of a reemergence likely._

Paul gawped.

"Holy bloody hell,", he mumbled, nearly speechless, handing the paper over to the others.

At length, they had all read it. John was laughing at it, through chattering teeth.

"We've got to get back,", said George.

"It won't be that easy. I've got to get in contact with UNIT. They can help us,", said the Doctor.

"With what?".

"They can help us get back in time, AND get the TARDIS back.".

Ringo then started walking in the other direction.

"Where are you going, Ringo?", asked the Doctor.

"While you do that, I'm going to go call my mum.".

"NO! You can't!", exclaimed the Doctor.

"Why not?", said Ringo.

"It'll disturb everything. Time will get re-written anyway!", discouraged the Doctor.

"What if it doesn't after all?", asked Ringo. The Doctor had no comeback to that, so he just relaxed his expression to one of understanding, and shrugged his shoulders.

"Hey, man,", said George, catching up with him. "I'll call my parents too.". Paul then came up to the other side of Ringo. "Yeah, I'll call my da.".

"Oh, my God,", said John. "I've got to go see Cyn, and Julian,", he said, rushing after the boys.

"Well, Donna,", said the Doctor. "It's just you and me.".

Donna nodded.

 _A/N;_ _So is time really going to get rewritten after all? How will the world handle the reappearance of the Beatles? Will George *ever* get his guitar back? Is the TARDIS lost forever? Can the Doctor save the day once again? And, most suspensefully... Will John be able to get on the bus while wearing a hospital gown?_

 _Stay tuned and all will be answered, my friends._


	17. Chapter 17

_A/N; Hope you enjoy!_

The Doctor and Donna had a long afternoon, eventually finding themselves in an office. Donna didn't like the feeling of the whole place, but the Doctor seemed confident. Or maybe the word was 'determined'.

They eventually were granted an audience with an official looking man, whose name Donna did not catch. He and the Doctor then entered into painfully long debate and discussion. The Doctor was reluctant to reveal his real identity, but he had little choice at that moment (the UNIT of 1965 had yet to hear of the Doctor). To save the reader's patience and eyesight, we will not recount this conversation in detail.

Across London, there were four lads straggling down the street; one in a strange-looking gown, the other three looking for a telephone booth.

Once they found telephones, John had to beg the others for a few shillings to get on the bus.

"You really think they're going to let you on like that, mate?", questioned Paul, looking over his friend, laughing a little at his frozen, barefooted, be-gowned condition.

John sighed, discouraged.

"Here,", said George, taking off his boots and giving them to John. "If you're lucky, you'll get one of 'em that never really look at ya, they just look at the ground,", he laughed.

"Thanks, mate,", said John gratefully, tugging George's boots on.

While the others were placing calls to Liverpool, John was catching a bus to bring him nearer to his house.

Through some quick maneuvering, he was able to get on the bus without the driver really looking at him. He was almost alone in the bus, except for the driver, of course, and one other bloke with long hair.

"Hey, mate,", said the guy. "That's a far out set of threads,", he laughed. John wouldn't meet his eye and tried to ignore him. He thought if he ignored him, maybe he wouldn't say anything else that might draw attention to his condition. He didn't want to walk all those miles in the snow.

Luckily, the other guy shut up, and John got off the bus at his stop. He walked for quite some distance before he finally, FINALLY made it to his house. He climbed over the gate, and walked up his long, winding drive only to see a large lorry backed up to his garage door. There were men moving furniture, and there was a cab sitting with the engine on, apparently waiting for someone.

John just stood and watched for a moment in disbelief until he saw a blonde woman come out of the front door of the house, bags in hand. As she started to turn around to lock the door back, John called out to her.

"CYN!", he cried.

She stopped.

"CYN!", he called again.

She whirled around. She dropped all of her bags. She seemed to be quaking in her boots for a moment before she broke out at a dead lope off the porch, across the lawn, and straight to John.

"John, it can't be you?!", she cried, weeping hysterically.

"It is, love, it is,", he reassured.

Cynthia hugged him for a long time before realizing that her face was sticking to his sleeve.

She released him, and looked at his plastic sleeves on his equally strange gown.

"John... What are you wearing?".

"It's... It's a hospital gown,", John admitted, now realizing that all of the moving men were staring at him, standing ankle-deep in snow, wearing a dress.

"For Christ's sake, what has happened to you?", she asked.

"Well, I got a couple a big flesh wounds, and I had to go in hospital, and -", then he noticed how confused and overwhelmed she looked. "I've just been everywhere, Cyn.".

Then Cynthia led him in back into the house, and told the cab to go on, and the moving men to put everything back where they found it.

She could barely believe it - John was home.

After placing calls to their families (who were in such a state of shock that Mr. McCartney hung up on Paul twice, not believing that the call was from his son, Mrs. Harrison cried her eyes out for the entire call, and Ringo's mum did the same), they all decided to regroup at John's house.

On their way, Paul had a revelation.

"Holy sh-", he started to exclaim.

"What?!", said George and Ringo.

"WE LEFT MAGGIE IN THE TARDIS!", he screeched.

George and Ringo's jaws dropped.

"How did we forget that?!", cried George.

"I guess we just got busy, and-", stammered Paul.

"Good God, we're deplorable people,", moaned Ringo.

They hurried on to John's house, not knowing what else to do at that moment.

By the time the other three got over there, John had changed into normal clothes, and Cynthia was still very confused and left in the dark. They reminded John about Maggie, and he was pretty well gobsmacked.

They weren't there for very long before they got a phone call from the Doctor.

"Yeah, lads, get on over here to UNIT, we've got it all sorted,", said the Doctor's voice on the other end of the line.

"Okay, where's UNIT?", asked John, getting his pen and paper.

After the Doctor gave him directions, John hung up.

"Right, lads, we've got 'a get over there now,", he said, beckoning them to follow him.

"J-J-John, but... Aren't you going to tell me anything?!", stammered Cynthia, flustered.

John turned back around.

"Cyn,", he took his wife by the shoulders.

"We're friends with a space-alien called the Doctor. We've been flying around in outer space in his time machine for a few days, and we got stranded trying to get George's guitar back from aliens who stole it, and this was the soonest we could get back.".

Cynthia then looked angry. Very angry.

John got confused.

"John Winston Lennon. How DARE you lie to me!", she said, stomping on John's foot.

John yowled and held his foot up, hopping around and cringing in pain.

"I'm telling the truth, Cyn!", insisted John.

Cynthia scowled at him menacingly.

"George,", she said, stepping up to the young guitarist. "I know you won't lie to me. What was he doing all this time?".

"He's telling the truth, Cynthia,", said George soberly.

Cynthia then scoffed. "John, you've got loyal friends,", she said, collapsing into a chair and burying her face in her hands.

"Cyn,", said John, stepping up to her and putting his hand on her arm. "I'm telling you the truth, the God's honest truth. If you come with us, you can see for yourself, and meet the Doctor, and Donna.".

Cynthia refused to look at him.

"Cyn, please,", John begged.

"Come on, Cynthia, we'll show you,", said Paul in his ever-so-charming voice. "Come on then,", he said, helping her up and walking her over to the front door.

A long cab ride later, the Beatles plus Cynthia were in front of a large office building. The Doctor met them in the lobby.

"Come quickly, lads,", he said, noticing Cynthia only after he spoke. "Oh, you must be Cynthia, how to you do, I'm the Doctor,", he said with a friendly smile, offering his hand to the blonde. She smiled a little and accepted his hand.

Then she couldn't take it anymore. She had to ask.

"Begging your pardon, but... Are you a space-alien?".

"Well,", he said, canting his head to and fro. "Yeah... But don't tell anybody,", he said, laughing a little. Cynthia involuntarily stared in total disbelief at the alien with incredible hair and the pinstriped suit.

"Told ya,", John whispered to her.

"Come on then,", he said, motioning for them to follow.

He led them through the lobby and down, down, down some back stairs into a deep, dark basement. There was a computer down there, which was a fascinatingly foreign sight for all those native to the '60s. Of course, it was true to the era, and took up most of the very large room. There were several people sitting around at desks lit by little lamps with oblong green shades (you know the type).

"We've already tipped off the Judoon, they're the intergalactic police. We're waiting for word that they've made it to the Pit,", said the Doctor.

"You... You mean that other people, in, in our time, know about space... and time?", George stumbled.

"You bet your bootle,", said the Doctor playfully. "You'd be surprised.".

"I am,", said George, looking around in shock as the dozen or so people worked.

"Oh,", said the Doctor, turning to Donna. "Donna, this is Cynthia,", he said, facing the redhead away from some papers on a desk and towards the blonde lady.

"Cynthia, Donna, Donna, Cynthia,", said the Doctor, motioning his hand back and forth between the two of them.

"Hi,", said Donna, offering her hand to shake. "Nice to meet you.".

"Hello,", said Cynthia shyly.

"Love your hair, by the way,", said Donna in her usual outgoing manner. "It looks so perfect, I really like it,", she continued, making Cynthia thank her timidly and tug self-consciously at a piece of her long blonde hair.

"Unlike Johnny's, here,", she said, shoving John.

"HEY!", all four Beatles then said.

Donna then chuckled loudly, striking everyone in the room with the volume of her laugh.

Then a telephone started ringing on one of the desks. A woman answered it, and within second she turned to the group and said "Doctor, we've touched down on Montezuma 5.".

"Good, good,", said the Doctor, walking over and motioning nonchalantly for her to hand him the receiver. She complied.

Then the Doctor started reciting a series of aggressive-sounding syllables into the telephone.

Everyone seemed to be used to it except Cynthia.

"What's 'e doing?", she whispered to her husband.

"He's speaking alien,", John replied, giggling a little at his wife's naivety, not stopping to realize that this time last year he could barely have imagined any of this, let alone understood it himself.

The Doctor was on the line for a few minutes before a grieved look came over his face.

"Oh. No.".

"What, Doctor?", asked Donna, looking up from her work with alarm.

"Here,", said the Doctor, shoving the receiver back to the lady who had answered the phone.

"Oh, Doctor,", he mumbled to himself, starting to pace rapidly up and down the floor, rubbing his face in his hands.

"What is it, Doctor?", Donna repeated, a little impatient.

"The Pit was prepared for this. Their security system is up, and it's beyond the technology of the Judoon to break it down,", he said, still pacing.

"So what now?", asked Donna.

"They want me to tell them what to do, and I don't kn- oh,", he said, his face changing from anguish to glorious resolve as he stopped pacing and removed his hands from his face.

Donna didn't ask him anything, she just watched him.

"But oh! That's no good, that's no good, Doctor,", he said, starting to pace again and run his hands through his hair. "We couldn't generate that kind of power through remote signaling...", he continued to mumble.

"What are you on about, mate?", asked Paul, stepping up to the Doctor.

"The only thing there right now that is on our side, and can generate enough power to dismantle the forcefields... Is the TARDIS, but there is no one there to operate it!", he said, wildly pulling his hair in all directions.

"I thought you said the TARDIS can't operate inside the timelocked field, Doctor?", asked Donna. "And surely they've taken it inside the Pit if they're going to sell it.".

"No, no, if they did that, it would be damaged, and they wouldn't do that to it, it would be stupid, and they know it, so she must be stored somewhere else, in a secret facility...", he mumbled, wearing a path in the carpet.

"Doctor,", Ringo tried to interject.

"I would try to get back myself in time, but then-", the Doctor rambled.

"Doctor,", said George.

"... And I may not make it in time, and then it would be-".

"Doctor,", said John.

"... And I just CAN'T generate that kind of power with a sonic screwdriver-".

"Doctor,", said Paul.

"... And then if I couldn't, then the circuits would blow, and then-".

"DOCTOR!", Donna shouted.

The Doctor finally stopped.

"Sorry, were you talking?", asked the Doctor, scratching his head.

"Yeah, they were tryin' to tell you something!", Donna exclaimed.

"Well,", said Paul, stepping up.

"Yeah?", said the Doctor.

"Maggie's still in the TARDIS.".

The Doctor at first didn't look phased, but then he absorbed the meaning of what Paul had just said. His brown eyes expanded to double size. He looked up at the group.

"You mean that we...?".

"Yeah.".

"That I...?".

"Yep.".

The Doctor took one heavy breath. Then he ran back over to the telephone and picked it up, then said one "MAHO!" into the receiver, and slammed it down. Then he started dialing feverishly.

"Come on, Maggie, come on,", he said, waiting for her to answer.

"But she doesn't know anything about telephones!", pointed out Donna.

The Doctor gave her his 'thank you, Donna', look and soniced the receiver.

"Maggie? Maggie?", he said.

Then he heard a little voice on the other end.

"Yes! Maggie, it's me, the Doctor! I need you to help me with something, okay?", he said, starting to twirl a pencil from Donna's desk between his fingers at an atomic rate.

"Yeah, okay, good - yes, yes, Donna's here, so's Ringo, yeah... Yep they're here too, everyone's fine... Oh okay,", the Doctor laughed a little before covering the mouthpiece and saying to the others "Maggie says 'hello'".

"Hello, Maggie!", they all replied to where Maggie could here.

"Aha!", laughed the Doctor, smiling wide. "Could you hear that? - Ah. Good. Now, Maggie,", he said. " I need you to do these things, very carefully, in this exact order; okay, now- are you in the console room, the one with the round things on the walls?".

"Yes,", Maggie's voice then came over the PA system for everyone in the room to hear.

"All right, then, do you see the silver lever, it's, it's labelled with duct tape 'RCD. Deflector'. Do you see it?", said the Doctor, only realizing what he had just said after he said it. He remembered then - Maggie couldn't read.

"Yes, I see it. RCD Deflector?", she repeated back.

The Doctor gulped.

"Yeah, but... Maggie, I thought you couldn't read?".

"I can now!", she exclaimed excitedly.

"W-w, that's wonderful!", exclaimed the Doctor. "How did you do that?".

"The TARDIS taught me while you were all out.".

The Doctor was then beaming ear to ear. "Good old girl, you never let yourself get bored, do you?", he mumbled into the phone. The TARDIS replied audibly with a contented *vworp*.

"Are you wanting to invert the RCD Deflector's power, by any chance, Doctor? Because the TARDIS taught me how to do that.".

The Doctor's was then smiling so much it looked painful.

"Yes. Yes I am.".

"Jolly good,", she said uncharacteristically, and then the Doctor could hear her turning knobs and doing things.

"All right, if you've got that under control, I'm going to get off and attend to some other stuff, and then you just hold tight, I'll call you right back,", reassured the Doctor.

"Okay, bye-bye,", Maggie chortled. She sounded quite pleased with herself and everything else (she had no idea that she was about to be in the middle of the major police raid; but she would never know it anyway, tucked safely away in the TARDIS).

"All right lads, it looks like our problems have just been solved,", smiled the Doctor. "Amos, is the capsule ready?", he asked turning to man who was talking on a telephone.

"Yes, Doctor, all ready to go.".

"All right then, lads, to the roof!", he said, starting to lead them out of the room.

"What's going on?", Paul mumbled to Donna.

"We're going to go pick up the TARDIS and your stuff.".

"How are we going to do that?".

"The Doctor built a space-time capsule. It's on the roof,", she said.

Paul coughed and looked a bit wide-eyed. There really were no limits with the Doctor.

Once they arrived in the lobby, the Doctor turned to John.

"Eh, she... Em, you may want to, uh,", he stammered motioning towards Cynthia.

"Oh,", said John, turning back to his wife. She was rather in a state of shock.

John took her to the side and started to try to speak to her, but she did all the talking.

"Oh, John!", she exclaimed once they were away from the group. "I'm so sorry I doubted you,", she said, embracing him.

"Well, um,", said John, trying to find the right words. "That's great, Cyn. But, well, I don't know how to tell you this,", he said, squirming under her expectant gaze.

"What?", she asked, starting to get suspicious.

"Time is about to be rewritten,", he blurted. "You'll be fine, you'll never even know that all this happened,", he reassured her bluntly, though she didn't understand what he meant.

"What are you talking about? Can't we go home now?", she asked, reading the answer from his eyes and not liking it.

"You can, Cyn. I just have to go up to the roof, and then... Well, I'll see you in just a little bit. So go home and wait,", he said, starting to walk on with the others.

Cynthia was totally speechless. He was going to leave again.

He turned back when the doors to the elevator were starting to close and waved at her. She was just staring blankly at him.

"Everything all right with the misses, then?", Ringo questioned on the elevator ride.

"Oh, yeah, yeah,", said John, shrugging it off on the outside but feeling guilty on the inside. The Doctor sensed this.

"She'll be fine. You didn't do anything wrong, John,", reassured the Doctor.

"Yeah, I know, mate,", said John, pretending to be unphased.

Once they arrived on the roof, they could see the capsule that the Doctor had prepared for them. It... Well, it looked a whole lot like a bus. In fact, it was one, just a bit souped-up. And oh, yeah- it didn't have any wheels.

"Come on, you lot!", called the Doctor, and they all piled in.

"Why doesn't it have any wheels?", asked Paul.

"Didn't need those,", replied the Doctor curtly. No one asked any more questions.

"Is this the magic bus, Doctor?", Donna asked.

The Doctor looked at her with mock-scorn.

Then Donna started whistling a song and mumbling "I waaaant the magic bus...".

The Doctor coughed pointedly.

"Oh, come on, they could do a great version of that one!".

"They caaaaaaan't have it!", returned the Doctor, and Donna then laughed hysterically.

In a few seconds flat, they were on Montezuma 5, in the middle of the marketplace. When Ringo got out off the bus, he was unpleasantly welcomed by the same stench of rotten meat, and he only had to look to his right to see that the Doctor had parked them right next to the table with the haggis. Although there were no shopkeepers, or anyone at all around. There was a thick fog in the air, and it was eerily silent.

As Ringo followed the others down the street, he noticed that there was quite a lot of smoke rising in the air ahead of them.

"Ah. We should be getting close,", said the Doctor.

Soon, they arrived at what looked like a whole lot like a bomb crater, but there was a rocket in the middle of it.

"Hmm, here it is,", said the Doctor, bidding them to follow along.

Soon, they had picked their way through the rocks and and debris down to where Judoon were milling about. The Doctor was about to approach them when he saw a group of the rhinos laboriously hauling something across the crater.

"GOO! JA-DO HA!", shouted the Doctor, sprinting towards the Judoon. They stopped.

The Doctor then started speaking rapidly to them in their language, and they put down the object, much to the Doctor's delight and relief.

The object, of course, was the TARDIS.

The rest of the group watched fondly as the Doctor hugged his TARDIS and heaved an enormous sigh of relief through a smile.

Everything was all right now.

 _A/N; How did you like my little Who reference in there (not *Doctor* Who, but *The* Who)? I was listening to quite a bit of the Who when I was writing this so it just kind of found its way into the narrative._

 _It's not quite over yet, so stay posted for the next chapter! I hope to get that on before next week, maybe over the weekend. So see you then :)_

 _Peace and love :)_


	18. Chapter 18

_A/N; All right, ladies and gentlemen, here it is; the last chapter. Hope you enjoy it :)_

George Martin was playing back some tapes from earlier that morning and eating a sandwich when he heard the door open behind him, and the sound of Liverpudlian voices came to his ears.

He turned around in his swivel chair.

"All right, lads, what's the gag?", he asked, looking over the faces of his band.

"I'm afraid we don't know what you mean, George,", said Paul innocently.

George squinted a little at them. All four of them were there, standing in a row. They looked a little too pleased with themselves. Something had to be going on.

"You look like four Siamese cats who've just discovered the back way into a birdhouse,", said Mr. Martin skeptically.

Then all four of them laughed, and looked at each other out of the corners of their eyes. They weren't fooling their producer.

They were inside the booth when George noticed that George was holding what he had been moping over the loss of for the past several weeks; his Gretsch guitar!

"George!", George exclaimed involuntarily.

"Yeah?", replied George into his microphone.

"Where'd that come fr...?!", sputtered Mr. Martin, unable to put a complete sentence together at that moment.

"What?", George teased him.

"Your, your guitar!", said George, rubbing his eyes and giving the guitar another look to make sure he wasn't seeing things. "I thought you said you lost it on tour!".

"Well... I, um, there was a mistake. I found it. That's what took us so long at lunch, I went and found it...", said George, unable to keep a knowing grin off his face.

"Well- weh, what do you mean, 'took you so long at lunch'? You were hardly gone five minutes!", exclaimed George.

"Oh, um... Oh,", said George, smiling and looking at the other lads, who looked as though they might die of poorly-suppressed smugness. It was driving George Martin insane.

"What's going on, lads?", George asked, unable to take it any longer.

"Oh, it's just -", started John reluctantly, only to be relieved to be saved by Ringo.

"Look who's here!", Ringo exclaimed, pointing with his drumsticks to the door behind George.

George whirled around to see 'The Doctor', or Mr. McLeod, or whoever he indeed was, along with his nutty ginger assistant, and a young girl with a Beatlecut wearing a bright orange shift dress.

George started to open his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by the Doctor/Mr. McLeod.

"Oh, hello!", he said in a wonderfully friendly manner. "Hope we're not intruding. We just dropped by to listen a bit before we have to get back.".

"I'm, I'm sorry,", stammered Mr. Martin.

"Oh, come on Marty, let 'em stay!", exclaimed John.

"Yeah, man! They're gear,", said Ringo.

"Yeah!", agreed Paul.

"Well,", swallowed George. "I suppose you can stay for a bit. But only on one condition,", he said, raising his pointer finger at the boys.

"What?".

"Don't call me Marty, any of you.".

All the Beatles laughed, and the guests smiled.

"All right, George, what song are we doing, I've forgotten,", said Paul, slinging his bass strap over his shoulder.

George couldn't believe what he was hearing for a moment. Paul was usually the last one to forget those kind of things!

"What did you have for lunch, McCartney?", he asked with a laugh.

Paul just laughed and turned his back to the window, tuning his bass.

"All right lads, ready?", asked Mr. Martin through his microphone.

John and George gave a few test-strums, Paul picked out a bit of a bassline, and Ringo hit his bass drum a couple times.

"All right, Rock and Roll Music, take 5,", said George.

 _"Just let me hear some of that Rock and Roll Music, any old way you choose it!_

 _It's got a backbeat , you can't lose it, any old time you use it!_

 _Gotta be Rock 'n Roll Music, if you wanna dance with me!"_

The Doctor, Donna, and Maggie watched with interest. John was wailing his heart out and strumming his guitar, George was playing his part with vigor (and he couldn't keep the smile from his face at playing his old guitar again), Paul was bopping his head to his bassline, and Ringo was drumming rapidly and flopping his hair happily.

When they were finished, the visitors applauded.

"Please,", said Mr. Martin, raising a hand towards them to tell them not to make any noise.

Then they applauded silently, and the Beatles laughed.

Mr. Martin gathered that the guests were doing something funny over his shoulder, and he turned around with slight irritation before turning back to his work.

"All right lads, that was pretty good. We'll give it one more go before I come in for the piano overdub. Paul, on this one, we need a little more gain on your bass, and a little less treble from you, George. John and Ringo?", he said.

"Yeah?".

"Could you move the piano out to be just to the left of Paul's amplifier?".

Ringo and John got up and went over to the piano on wheels.

When George and Paul had their sound where it needed to be and John and Ringo had moved the piano, they looked back up to where George was sitting, and when they did, they saw that no one was there but their engineer.

They all resumed their positions, now looking between each other and the empty space where their friends had been.

"Oh, lads?", said George. "That gent and lady said they had to go. They told me to give you a message.".

"What's the message?".

"'Lythm-rogs'.".

 _A/N; I really hope that you've all enjoyed this story! I've had fun putting it together, and I'm kind of sad that it's over now, but ah! I've already got another one or two brewing in this crazy mind of mine XD I hope you'll all consider following me so maybe you'll know when I get another one going on here. I'm going to miss updating *sniffles* but I'll be back, I promise!_

 _Anyway, people, love you loads, and I literally can't wait to see you again when I get my next story going! :) Peace and love 3_


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